Soaring across the Adriatic Ocean by speedboat, my Boomer mum squeals in delight as she accidentally grips onto my recently developed, Millennial motherhood-induced belly rolls for extra anchorage.
My eight-year-old is there with us, with freshly bloodied knees and elbows from an impromptu Parkour move-gone-wrong on Our Lady of the Rocks island, standing in a superman pose as the wind whips his hair. My Gen Z brother, who I’ve not been on holiday with in 20 years, watches on with tears in his eyes, overcome by the beauty of the looming Montenegrin mountains drawing closer as we glide into Boka Bay. My Gen X partner rests his arm gently on his shoulders.
