Sitting in the booth by the window in the restaurant I watched the cars go by on Breckenridge Lane.  I ordered a meal but I was really there to watch the cars and reflect about what was going on inside my heart and mind. 

I've done this all my life.  It began when I was four years old.  When darkness began to surround our old log house, I went out on the front porch and watched for dad to come home from work as the cars passed by on Hustonville Street.

Dad was always missing from home and I was always missing him.  Dad was always working.  He could never stop working or mom, my five brothers and I would have never survived.

I went to the restaurnat because I knew something was bothering me and I could not figure out what it was.  I thought if I just took time to sit and reflect I would uncover what was scratching at my soul.  The cars continue to go by and I began to think more and more about sitting on the front porch at night years ago waiting for dad to come home.

Nothing about my day was going right.  That is why I stopped what I was doing and went to the restaurant to think. 

While I continued to sit there thinking, I remembered how I greeted dad each night when he arrived home from work.  I would run to his car and grab his legs and hold on tight when he got out of the car.  He always gave me time to tell him about my day.  No matter what I told him, he reassured me that everything would be okay. 

Then, the obvious became clear to me.  I was missing dad.

Dad has been dead for 10 years and I guess I am still grieving.  The challenges of my day pushed the little boy inside me to mentally run to dad for reassurance.

"I miss you dad."

Writer, John Rodgers