The Map That Never Folded Back Right

Every summer, my parents spread a big road map across the kitchen table before we left.

My father always believed he knew the route, but my mother kept the map on her lap anyway. By the second day, it was folded the wrong way, covered in pencil marks, and impossible to put back how it started.

I remember sleeping against the car door, waking up at gas stations, and looking for motel signs as it got dark.

We did not always know exactly where we were going, but that somehow made the trip feel bigger.

The road itself was part of the vacation.