Its 4 AM, time to rise; minus 20 once again.
I start the van and shovel out; you get your lunch prepared.
Few words are ever spoken; none are really needed.
Knowing what we’re supposed to do; something we’ve always shared.
Each day I linger for a while after the bus has left the lot.
Too early yet to think that much, but the heart can always feel.
No matter: airplane, bus or train, the sight of it receding
stirs ghosts of ancestors boarding ships, their hardships all so real.
You want to be an engineer—not something that comes easy,
but I’ve never seen you back down or regret the paths you chose.
Those long hours at the table, that dedicated search for work terms
now, two semesters left to go; that next step seems so close.
And I think, each and every time we make that early morning drop-off,
how so many of our youth go away for work. Will you be another one?
Is watching you board that bus preparation for a greater leaving?
With each round of practice it gets no easier saying, “so long, Son.”
But sometimes the quiet is broken by your eternal opener: “Dad???”
A smile; geek to geek communication is really not all that strange
and your questions that catalyze responses from this team of two nerds
brings comfort knowing distance can never silence that exchange.