Time is a thief.

I say it all the time.

With two kids now in college, one of which lives away from home, I am constantly reminded of how quickly time goes. I’ve shared these sentiments here over a number of times these past two decades, yet most recently these thoughts took an odd twist.

The occasion, a family wedding, which my mom of all people was to be the Matron of Honor.

The location, the Pacific Northwest.

Beautiful, right? Just one problem, my step-dad (aka Poppy) hates to fly. He’s 81 and even in his younger days he refused to board an aircraft. In my entire life he has taken a vacation via airplane less than a dozen times.

So now at the legendary age of 81 the open road was the only option.

My mom, while one who loves to travel, has limited vision thanks to macular degeneration in both of her eyes. She stopped driving two years ago; that’s a column unto itself.

The weeks leading up to our travel, I joked with girlfriends about how I envisioned the six-day total trip to be. Me, two seniors, one hard of hearing, one with limited vision and both unfamiliar with all the bells and whistles of their vehicle. This would be fun.

I often likened it to a crazy Ben Stiller, Adam Sandler, Weekend at Bernie’s crazy kind of movie. I would not be lying if I shared multiple times during the trip I would proclaim, “We should have cameras in this car.”

I just knew we could’ve made a mint via YouTube with the conversations and capers happening during 800-plus miles of drive time – each way.

The night before we took off, I found myself reflecting and appreciating this time I was going to get to have with my parents. We would spend more days on the road, than we would at the destination, so four of the six days I’d have the two of them all to myself.

My step-dad entered my life when I was in college, he’s been the only father figure in my life, hence me speaking of them both as my “parents,” our family is blended but the love is synonymous.

As we set off from their home 7:30 a.m. sharp – they were waiting outside as I pulled up promptly at 7:22 a.m. – I knew this would be one for the memory books.

Sitting in the backseat, as Poppy took the first leg, that gratitude found me again. Two silver foxes at the helm discussing the road ahead and reviewing the plan for the first day of travel.

My mom had decided where we would have lunch and Poppy kept us abreast of how the gas level was. Our hotel stay proved not to be what my mother had anticipated or booked, yet the three of us made the most of it and returned to the road bright and early the next day.

I won’t recount the entire six days, that’s what a journal is for. A highlight, however, which deserves a mention was the two days we had with my aunt (83) and uncle (81) who were also attending the wedding.

Along with my parents, the four of them together could be a comedy show unto itself.

As I sat across from them at breakfast, our second day there I couldn’t help but reflect on the role reversal life seems to throw at you when you hit this age. Helping my uncle with the creamer, getting the stevia and reviewing the menu for my mom and of course shouting every now and again, for both my uncle and Poppy.

These four are inspiring to me. Each caring for one another just as they vowed decades ago. Each living through triumphs, setbacks and lots of laughter.

Come wedding day, it would be my mom and her older sister (aka my aunt) who got the party started on the dance floor. Followed behind closely by the groom’s mother who was 91. She and my aunt cut a true rug together, as my 83-year-old aunt told everyone who would listen their ages as they swung one another around.

Again, the role reversal, it was like watching two little girls having the time of their life at a party – and they did. Through the course of the night, I would have to corral “the Seniors” as I called them, to sit for a minute to catch their breath and have some water. In no time they were each back on the dance floor, melting in with the young ones.

There truly isn’t enough column space to recapture these six days or to fully express what I’m trying to share, but here it is.

To all my dear Gen X readers, if road trips are part of your past with your parents, do yourself a favor, plan one more before you can’t. For the generations which follow us, if you are blessed to still have grandparents or great grandparents, make them a part of your priority, not your “hope to find time soon.” I promise you; you won’t regret it.

Every year, I look to the year ahead and start to plan “things I’d like to do.” This often involves a bit of planning, a look at the finances and coordination with my treatment schedule. In short, it takes work, but as I’ve learned all too quickly, life is fragile and time waits for no one.

A road trip with my parents, was never a “goal” of my 2025 list, it just sort of happened. But oh, what a pleasant surprise it turned out to be. The photos, the videos, the memories. Time may be a thief, but this time around I got caught holding the bag.

Call your parents.

Teresa Hammond is a staff reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Riverbank News and The Escalon Times. She may be reached at thammond@oakdaleleader.com or by calling 209-847-3021.