I remember how small I felt climbing way up high to ride in the passenger seat of the big rig.
Mostly in the summertime, when I was out of school for months with nothing to do, he’d take me along for the ride to one of the construction sites he was delivering to. When we arrived he would park the truck, make sure everything was safely in place, then come around to my side to help me down. I’d stand there on the ground watching in wonder as he flipped the switch that started the trailer going up, up, higher and higher while gravel came pouring out the back, forming a mountain behind the truck.
Sometimes when he was all done with work he’d drive me out to this open space near the airport where I would sit up on the wheel well as we watched the huge commercial jets land on the runway.
Looking back, I realize that what I remember is less about how small I felt and more about how big he was to me. I’m thankful that he still is such a big presence in my life, not as much in size or stature, but in humor and heart.
Happy Father’s Day to the man who has always put me first and who makes me feel safe in my own skin.
I love you Dad.
Carrie Joy(ful) 