I Take My Toddler On Long Hauls—But Last Week He Said Something That Stopped Me Cold

I’ve been hauling freight since I was nineteen. When daycare became too expensive, I started taking my two-year-old son Micah on the road with me. The road is his playground — he loves the vibrations, chasing the sun, and the steady hum of tires. We wear matching neon jackets, share peanut butter crackers at stops, and sing off-key ‘80s songs to stay awake. One evening near Amarillo, while stopped at a rest area, Micah suddenly asked, “When is he coming back? The man who sits up front.” I was shocked — we’ve always been alone in the truck. That night, I found a folded note in the glove box with a pencil sketch of us and the words, “Keep going. He’s proud of you.” A few days later near Flagstaff, a diner owner told me she saw a man with a beard and denim jacket standing by my truck, talking to someone inside. She gave me another note with a sketch and the message, “You’re not alone. You never were.” The handwriting and drawings reminded me of my brother Jordan, who died six years ago in a car accident. He never met Micah, but somehow Micah seemed to know him…. CONTINUE READING…