When I was young, my dad was in a car accident that changed the course of his life. Because of that, my brother and I didn’t always have the kind of everyday relationship many people have with their fathers. There were long stretches when we didn’t see or hear from him, though he did what he could to shield us from the more difficult parts of his life. Even so, we always knew he loved us and truly wanted to be there for us.

One of my favorite memories with him happened when I was about 21. I had just gotten my driver’s license and drove out to Arizona to visit him and my grandmother. For a week, it was just the three of us together — something that had never really happened before, since our visits usually included a whole group of family.

One day during that trip, my dad and I borrowed my grandma’s Jeep and spent the day exploring the desert. I drove while we cruised along dusty roads, stopping to check out interesting rock formations and taking in the wide-open landscape. What I remember most was how easy the day felt. We talked and laughed, and whenever we ran into someone along the way, my dad was completely at ease striking up conversations like old friends meeting on the road.

That evening we made it back to the house and helped my grandma cook dinner, ending a day that felt simple and perfect in a way that’s hard to describe. The rest of the week passed much the same way — sharing meals, talking, and enjoying the quiet rhythm of everyday time together. It was a rare and special experience, just the three of us.

When it came time for me to drive back to Las Cruces for school, my dad made sure my car was ready for the trip. He checked the fluids and rotated the tires, taking the time to make sure everything was in order before I left. It was his way of making sure I would get home safely.

It might sound like a small thing, but that week — and especially that day in the desert — meant a lot to me. It was the first time I remember thinking, this is what it’s like to have a dad.

When I think of him now, I think of that trip: driving through the desert, talking and laughing together, and the quiet moments that meant more than he probably realized.