Every summer of my childhood began the same way: with a packed suitcase, an early morning train, and my parents double-checking everything while my sister and I sleepily followed behind.
My parents were always the ultimate planners. Tickets, snacks, backup plans for the backup plans — they had everything sorted.
Even as my sister and I got older and each moved to different countries, our parents still took the lead when we traveled with them.
So, last December, when we decided to go on a family trip to Europe, I couldn’t wait to be their kid again and follow along, just like always.
This time, though, they relied on me for help
It all started with the visa process. Schengen visa forms (for non-European Union nationals to visit the Schengen area in Europe) aren’t exactly fun, but my parents seemed completely overwhelmed trying to figure them out.
As I sat with them as they tried to fill out the forms, my mom kept asking the same question about which travel insurance to take, and my dad struggled with the portal for booking the visa appointment slot. They couldn’t keep up with all the details, so I took over.
They also put me in charge of the itinerary. Although my parents had planned international trips before, this time, they seemed unsure of themselves.
I thought they were just being cautious since it was their first time planning a multi-city trip through Europe, so I handled figuring out the routes, accommodations, and timing.
However, it wasn’t until we landed at Amsterdam Airport that I noticed things had really changed.
I looked back at my parents and saw them walking a few steps behind me, looking around the terminal with wide, uncertain eyes. My dad handed me his passport without saying much, while my mom asked which way to go.
Watching them be so hesitant, I felt a quiet shift. These were the same people who once carried heavy suitcases through crowded Indian railway platforms with two kids in tow. Now, they were quietly relying on my direction.
My sister and I took the lead and enjoyed watching our parents be so present
Throughout our two-week trip across the Netherlands, Germany, France, and Switzerland, I was reminded of my childhood as we navigated unfamiliar train platforms and sprinted through stations to catch the right connections.
Except, unlike then, my sister and I were the ones leading the way.
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One of my favorite moments was when we took our parents to a Christmas market in Strasbourg, France. It was like watching two kids at their first fair.
My mom held my hand as we wandered through the stalls, pausing to admire tiny handmade ornaments, while my dad drifted toward every bakery window, asking if there was time for another pastry.
And in Switzerland, we spent our days exploring places my mom used to watch in YouTube videos, like Grindelwald, Thun, and Zurich.
The best view of the Alps came from a little village called Mürren, tucked away in the mountains. It snowed for most of our stay, and seeing my parents enjoy it felt like the most beautiful part of the trip.
It was a joy that felt unhurried. For once, they didn’t have to be the responsible ones — they could just be present.
Traveling with my parents taught me how to better show up for them
Of course, there were moments when my parents needed to catch their breath while changing trains, and they’d fumble with apps and ticket kiosks, pausing to make sure they were doing it right.
They’re still strong and independent, but now, they depend on me for help, and I want to be there for them. I double-check documents, help them navigate tech, and am more patient when they ask the same question twice.
In addition to memories I’ll cherish for years, this trip gave me a new understanding of love, aging, and what it means to show up for the people who once showed up for you.
I wasn’t fully prepared to feel that shift, but I’m learning — and maybe that’s what growing up really is.