Roll on, daddy
But before long, applications from trucking companies began to appear in our mailbox, one by one. I knew what was coming, but I didn’t want to accept it. A few weeks later, Momma broke the news. Daddy was going on the road again.
As bad as I hated it, I knew it was what he wanted. Trucking was in my daddy’s blood. It was who he was.
As children do, we grew older and created lives of our own. Momma, strong as always, remained our foundation. She loved Daddy like no other I’ve known. Through good times and bad, they prevailed. In my childhood, my daddy missed a lot of things. He missed church plays, school events, Easter egg hunts and a birthday or two. One event in my life that I could not have him miss was the birth of my daughter. As I lay in that hospital bed surrounded by loved ones, a part of my heart was missing. Momma had called and he was on his way, but we just hoped he made it on time.
My mind drifted off as I heard chattering in the background. In my mind, I began to sing, “Roll on highway, roll along, roll on Daddy ’til ya get back home.” As my mind wandered in excitement and fear, I prayed for my sweet baby girl to wait just a little while longer before she came into this world. Daddy’s baby did not want to meet her baby without him there. Suddenly, the doors opened, and in came the world. He was wearing overalls, a trucking cap and an exhausted smile, but he had made it. My daddy was here, and I was OK now.
I am now 27 years old, with a precious 4-year-old daughter of my own. I love my father and appreciate him for the sacrifices he made to give us a better life. Even as a grown woman, when I am driving on the highway and let a big rig in front of me in my lane, I get tears in my eyes when the trucker blinks his lights to say “thank you.” It may not be my daddy in the driver’s seat of that 18 wheeler, but chances are, it is somebody’s. I wipe the tears and smile, thinking, “Roll on.”