Amsterdam, Paris, and London, This is my love letter to you.

I planned, researched, and saved my valuable credit card points. I wasn't sure what it would be like this time around with one less leg, but there isn't much that can keep me from getting on a plane when there is an upgraded seat involved.

Your cobblestone streets and spiral staircases were beautiful, albeit scary and completely inaccessible. The historic charm of your architecture, untouched for hundreds of years, clad in angels and gargoyles, left me in awe. The treasures I only read about in books, hung from the walls of your museums by the thousands. There were towers I wish I could have reached, but the wheelchair I ended up needing to buy in Paris after wearing myself out walking on uneven, broken sidewalks couldn't quite get to all of your monuments. Nonetheless, I love you. I wish your officials added more ramps and lifts, but I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't be back because of your lack of accessibility. The truth is, I'll be back as soon as my credit card points are replenished.

I'm not sure how I'll get used to mornings without a petit déjeuner or nights without munching on stroopwafels in bed while scrolling through the day's photos, all of which look like they were torn from the pages of a fairytale book.

The kindness and consideration I felt from your people is unmatched. Strangers got out of tiny elevators to allow me to ride first. Airport employees escorted me to the gates and led me through expedited security. A hotel manager ran to buy me a shower bench when a room with a bathtub was unavailable. I met a woman and her sweet dog Cosmo on the streets of London who wanted to know how I was being treated and if I was doing OK with my wheelchair. Her Mother had been disabled, and she knew just how challenging European cities can be to navigate for us.

Sitting in your courtyards, watching the fall leaves land on my Mary Janes while sipping on a 6-euro glass of incredible white wine, is what dreams are made of. Even your street signs were special. Built into walls and meant to last, something America could never even dream of. Each city has its own unique magic. Storefronts are adorned with meticulously placed trinkets and the scent of exquisitely high-end perfume, a hint of cigarette smoke, and freshly baked pastries lingering in the air at all times, except in Amsterdam, where the cigarette smoke is replaced by something more herbaceous.

London, I forgive you for not using the euro and for using a different outlet from European countries despite how incredibly inconvenient it is. I needed a converter for my converter and a prayer that I wouldn't fry my curling wand or, worse, the charger for my prosthetic leg.

I even miss all the times I forgot the correct way to order a latte in French and ended up with an Americano with milk instead.

Until we meet again, stay dreamy, and don't knock down any historic buildings just to rebuild them without their prior charm and much less structurally sound walls. Never mind, we only do that where I'm from.

With love,

Your biggest fan