Kansas was flat, flat, flat until we began to climb into the Rocky Mountains where it was cool and there were lots of fir trees. Along the way my parents were singing, “We’re Off to See the Wizard” from some movie they say I’m too young for (something about a scary witch). But they fell silent when we pulled off the road at a lookout point and saw the Rockies stretching out. “We’re not in Kansas any more,” my father said softly. Our East Coast lives are about to change.