One of the most memorable vacations of my life took place a decade ago, when I embarked on a road trip with my parents to explore the north-central region of our country. It wasn’t just a getaway—it was a journey through memory, heritage, and connection.

We spent ten days winding through small towns and rural landscapes, many of which I hadn’t seen since childhood. Some places were faint echoes in my memory, while others were entirely new to me, waiting to be discovered with fresh eyes. Each stop held its own quiet charm—plazas where time seemed to stand still, local eateries with flavors that spoke of tradition, and winding roads that stitched together the past and present.

But what made this trip truly unforgettable wasn’t the scenery or the destinations—it was the company. My parents, now in their golden years and enjoying retirement, no longer feel confident driving through mountainous terrain. For them, the steep curves and narrow passes are daunting. For me, they’re exhilarating. Taking the wheel meant more than just navigating roads; it meant creating space for them to relax, to reminisce, and to simply enjoy the ride.

Those ten days were filled with laughter, shared silences, and stories that surfaced only when the road stretched long and the radio faded into the background. It was a rare and precious time—one where I could give back to the people who had once guided me, by guiding them in return.