Read this, from Lisa Falkenberg, part of her Pulitzer finalist entry in commentary: Just after 7 a.m., my father is sitting in the dining room, already dressed in his blue-collared uniform shirt and navy pants. He’s bending over to lace his shoe. I ask him how it feels to get ready for work for the last time.
“Anxiety,” he says.
“He wouldn’t sleep last night,” my mother hollers from the kitchen, where she’s busy at her daily routine of packing him enough sandwiches, snacks and drinks to keep him fueled for the next 12 hours. Dad explains that it’s more like excitement, something a kid feels before the first day of school. Only, this is the last day. After millions of miles, a lifetime of hauling everything you can think of – cattle, steel, grain, brick, beer, sportswear, potato chips – my father is pulling his last run. Bringing in the last load. Logging his final miles behind the wheel of a big rig.
(thanks, Mark)
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