07/27/2025
I TAKE MY TODDLER ON LONG HAULSâBUT LAST WEEK HE SAID SOMETHING THAT STOPPED ME COLD
Iâve been driving freight since I was nineteen, and when childcare got too expensive, I just strapped a car seat into the rig and brought Micah with me. Heâs two nowâsharp, stubborn, and already knows how to radio-check better than some new hires.
Itâs not exactly conventional, but he loves the road. The noise, the movement, the steady rhythm of tires on asphalt. And honestly? Having him close helps with the loneliness.
We wear matching hi-vis jackets, share snacks, and sing the same off-key songs every stretch of highway. Most days blur togetherâtruck stops, delivery docks, refueling routines.
But last week, right outside Amarillo, something happened.
Weâd stopped at a rest area just before sunset. I was checking the trailer straps while Micah sat on the curb, humming to himself and playing with his toy dump truck.
Then he looked up at meâout of nowhereâand said, âMama, when is he coming back?â
I blinked. âWho, baby?â
Micah pointed toward the cab. âThe man who sits up front. He was here yesterday.â
I froze.
Because weâd been alone. Weâre always alone. I donât let anyone else in that truck. Ever.
I knelt beside him. âWhat man, Micah?â
He didnât seem scared. Just matter-of-fact. âThe one who gave me the paper. He said itâs for you.â
I checked the cab. Nothing obvious. But later, when I opened the glove box to get my logbook, there it was.
A folded piece of paper.
Micahâs name written across the front.
And insideâ
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