Tuesday, January 22, 2013

An Unknown Lesson from Dad

As a young girl, I woulda sworn up and down that my dad was a super hero.

He was the strongest man ever. He could somehow carry both his daughters (before Allison was born) into the grocery store at the same time, even if one was on his shoulders while the other rode a hip or a leg. Strongest. Man. Ever.

He was the tallest man ever, capable of reaching anything unattainable by my little body.

He could make the best fires known to mankind when the power went out, and still make it fun even though we didn't have tv or computer games.

And he could see in the dark.

We made fairly regular trips over the mountain pass to visit family for 4th of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. That road was reallllllllyyyy dark.

It was customary for my sisters and I to all make "beds" in the van and try to sleep through the 3 hour trip to Wenatchee. Allison's bed was the short 2-person middle seat.  Jena's bed was the 3-person back seat, and I slept on the floor between the two rows of seats. For some reason, I really enjoyed that spot. I would stash goldfish crackers underneath the middle seat and pretend to myself that I was some sort of survivalist and had to ration my food during this insanely long trip. (No I was not every really starving, but these are the kinds of things a 7-year old girl comes up with to keep her brain occupied during car trips).

Anyways, back to my point.

Every now and then I would pop up out of my nest to check where we were. The car would be surrounded in darkness yet Dad was still plowing ahead at full speed. The headlights only showed about 6 feet of road. I felt safe, so I'd just plop back down to my "bed".

Dad was clearly using his super hero powers to see the dark road.

Upon reaching adulthood, I finally realized that my dad has no super hero abilities. He couldn't see the road any farther than I could, yet he just kept on going, trusting that the road is there somewhere.

This road I'm currently on might be really crappy, full of potholes, and get so foggy that I don't know what to expect 6 feet from now, but I know for a fact that IT KEEPS GOING.

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