#408 Riding the Doghouse- Randy DeVita
Like father like son. A man lies awake, unable to sleep.
It’s his son’s twelfth birthday.
“I am dozing trapped between midnight and dawn, and in my
half sleep, I listen as rain sleets against our bedroom window; oak branches,
stripped by autumn, scrape at the back of the house,”
He hears his son talking in his room, muffled, but when he
looks in, his sin has closed his eyes pretending to sleep. He remembers when he
was twelve, riding with his own father in his big rig. He too didn’t want to
talk with his father, waiting for him to leave the rig, so he could talk to a
stranger on the CB.
There is not enough time to miss good opportunities to talk
to those most important to us. There are only so many miles an engine has
before it dies.
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