Around a year ago, at the end of winter break, my dad and I got into his truck to pick up two of my friends and drive back to school in Massachusetts. He drove because I wouldn't. Wouldn't drive his truck, wouldn't drive from Pennsylvania to UMass. And I'll admit - I still won't drive his pickup truck, content with my little Honda.
Although fitting all of our bags into my car presented a bit more of a problem, I can now take the wheel, something that I couldn't have done a year ago. In high school, I even avoided the local highways most of the time, everything that could go wrong rushing through my head every time I really needed to. Until I finally convinced myself, this summer, that it isn't really that scary to drive somewhere a few hours away. So I drove to Rehoboth Beach in Delaware for a book signing and, really, it was that simple.
I could drive here on my own, but when I unpacked my bags in my dorm room, I noticed that my dad buttoned the top buttons of my jacket so that it wouldn't fall off the hanger. 20 years old, leaving for another state, yet I don't think I'll ever stop needing my dad to pick up on the little things that go unnoticed in my eyes.
That's good, because dad's never going to stop trying to pick up on those little things❤️