For Friday Fictioneers
For Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/
Dad’s Truck
Every Saturday, Dad polished the grill like it was sacred.
Beside it sat my tiny truck, parked proudly in the shadow of his giant one. My baby jumper leaned crooked nearby, forgotten evidence of who I’d been only months before.
“Helping today?” he’d ask.
I’d nod seriously, handing him imaginary tools while he flipped burgers no one could wait to eat.
Years later, after he was gone, I stood in the driveway staring at the empty space.
Funny how love leaves tracks—even when the wheels are gone.
With love
— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
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© Maggie – The Afterlove Voice
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