Mom texted me about road closures, and I saw the remnants of torrential rain outside my window, but still – I got on the freeway and headed to work. An hour and only a few miles later, and I’d become locked with hundreds of other commuters, slumped mercilessly over our wheels wondering just how much longer this may take – and I couldn’t help but think of dad.
The man knew every road in metro Detroit, every alley, every service drive – because despite having all of the time in the world, he always had to take the fastest route. He’d thunder through nasty neighborhoods if it would shave a second or two off of his drive. That’s just how he was.
He’d bailed me out before – many times – when I’d call in a panic lost or looking for a way around congestion. And he’d always have an answer, stopping whatever he was doing to stay on the phone and guide me turn by turn until I was safe. Even after I moved, he’d pull out his maps and reading glasses to navigate from time zones away. I’m sure my hysterics drove him crazy sometimes, but I think he secretly loved knowing he was needed – that even though I’d gotten older, I was still just a little girl who needed her father’s help.
Back on the freeway, I pulled up traffic maps on my phone, trying to re-route around the brazen lines of red and wanted nothing more than to be able to call dad for his advice. To ask if roads the GPS was suggesting were safe, or if there were clever short cuts and exits I could use to bypass some of the mess. And it hurt knowing I didn’t have that comforting voice on the other end of the line to bellow back directions.
It’s funny the things you miss about someone, and the moments that spring them to mind. Their quirks. The traits that are so uniquely them. How little things were actually really big, sweet, important things.
And realizing how much you wish you still had them here to help guide you.
A REKD GIRL 