I was seven years old. It was spring break, and I had no idea where we were going.

I remember walking through Port Columbus with my parents, watching the planes on the tarmac, asking questions nobody would answer. I remember settling into our seats on an Eastern Airlines flight, that familiar blue and purple stripe running along the fuselage. And I remember the moment, somewhere over the eastern seaboard, when my parents finally told me. We were on our way to Walt Disney World.

I could hardly believe it.

Every Sunday evening I had watched the ABC Wonderful World of Disney as they showed the park being built, week by week, segment by segment. I had read about the opening. I had imagined it the way only a seven-year-old can, as something so exciting it barely seemed real. And now I was on a plane headed there.

The morning we arrived at the park, we took the monorail from the parking lot. I remember pressing against the window and catching my first glimpse of the castle far off in the distance, blue and gold spires rising above the trees. Then we passed through the Contemporary Resort, that enormous A-frame structure that felt like the future itself, and just like that, we were there. I held my mom and dad’s hands as we walked under the train station and down Main Street. Pirates of the Caribbean. The Jungle Cruise. Exploring every corner of Tom Sawyer’s Island and the Circle-Vision movie. To my seven-year-old self, it was everything.

I didn’t fully understand then what my parents had given me. I just knew it was the most magical place I had ever been, and that we were there together.

I understand it now.

What they gave me wasn’t just a vacation. It was a memory I’ve carried my whole life, one of those rare experiences that stays vivid and whole no matter how many years pass. When I think back to that trip, I don’t just recall what happened. I feel it. The particular joy of being somewhere extraordinary with the people who matter most to you, without distraction, without routine, just completely present.

I’ve thought a lot over the years about why certain trips stay with us the way they do. Why one journey becomes part of a family’s story while another fades into a pleasant blur. I don’t think it comes down to the destination or the itinerary. I think it comes down to intention. Someone made a decision that a particular moment was worth honoring. They thought about it, planned for it, and made it happen in a way that let everyone else simply show up and be there.

My parents did that for me. I don’t know what it took on their end, what they figured out quietly so that I could be completely surprised and fully in the moment. But I know what it left behind.

That’s a big part of why I started Journeys by Kerr.

The families and couples I work with are often standing at one of those moments. A milestone birthday. A significant anniversary. A reunion that took years to finally pull together. A trip that’s been living in the back of someone’s mind for a long time, waiting for the right time to become real. My role is to handle what needs to be handled so that when the journey begins, everyone can just be there, together, without the weight of logistics pulling at them.

There’s a phrase that captures it for me: “For the stories you’ll always tell.”

That Disney trip is one of mine. I hope you have one too, and that somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re already thinking about the next one.

If you are, I’d love to help you plan it.

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Peter Kerr is founder of Journeys by Kerr, a travel design studio specializing in milestone journeys for families and couples. Journeys by Kerr is an independent affiliate of Gifted Travel Network, a Virtuoso® Member Agency.