Quality time! There is no better way to get it than on a road trip. For me it was a three-hour drive from Lake Worth to Orlando, with my youngest daughter at the wheel of her trusty Honda.

Interstate 95, which can take you from South Miami to as far north as the Canadian border, was wide open, with only a few container giants to watch out for. We stopped for brunch at Cracker Barrel. Their pancakes with warm maple syrup are to die for.

The country-style restaurant has a wonderful surprise-filled little shop. It is pricey but irresistible. After poking around for a pasalubong for our hosts, I found and bought a wooden sign that read: Wherever you go, there you are. They only had one, or I would have bought several to give away to a few choice friends and to hang over my own door as a reminder.

We discussed many things. She told me about her unforgettable high school years at Assumption San Lorenzo, a culture shock for a girl who grew up in public school, USA. We talked about her two daughters. She knows them so well. It made me wonder if I ever knew my own children that closely.

Just when she was getting into my personal business, the lady with an English accent (on our GPS) announced we had arrived at our destination. Our friends met us at their front door.

I remember visiting them many years ago in this same house. My children were very young then and were straining at the bit, eager to get to the land of fantasy called Disney World, 30 minutes away.

Panic-stricken

My days for theme parks have long been over. But I remember the excitement of getting the children there, of lining up for scary rides, of being panic-stricken thinking we had lost one child, and how two days of paying homage to Mickey, Snow White and Peter Pan could put a huge dent on our budget.

That was in the 70s, when entrance was about $4.95 and premium rides cost a dollar. Today I dont know how anyone can afford it. I hear it takes close to a hundred dollars just to enter, whether you get on the rides or not.

This time my visit was unrushed. We sat around and feasted on grapes, cheese and crackers, and stoked our never-ending treasure of old memories. We relived old times with lifetime friends. We pored over old photographs, a 3D wedding album by Bobs Studio, complete with a viewer. And in an old musty box, among love notes and newspapers clippings, we found a letter I wrote in 1954. Talk about flashbacks.

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