I Take My Toddler On Long Hauls
Life on the Road
I’ve been hauling freight since I was nineteen. When daycare became too expensive, I started bringing my two-year-old son, Micah, with me on the road. He loves the rhythm of the ride, the hum of the tires, and the time we share.
A Strange Encounter
Near Amarillo, Micah pointed to the empty passenger seat and asked, “When is he coming back?” He claimed a man had given him a note “for Mama.” Later, I found a sketch in the glove box—us in the cab—with the words: “Keep going. He’s proud of you.”
More Than Coincidence
In Flagstaff, a diner owner described a man by my truck. She handed me another drawing: “You’re not alone. You never were.” The art, the handwriting—I recognized it. My brother Jordan’s. He died six years ago.
A Presence That Stays
More sketches followed. Micah said, “Uncle Jo says slow down.” One note read: “He’ll remember this—your strength, your love. Not the miles.”
Love, it seems, never truly leaves.
