My son's stocking feet sun themselves on the dashboard
Our truck is pointed toward the campground
The radio weatherman says rain, and lots of it
But you wouldn't guess it from the bluebird sky
We talk of nothing and everything
Four hours of driving yields a lifetime of conversation
He tells me what he wants to be and asks my advice
Three days of freezing rain We walk, eat, sleep, cold water and gray skies
He comes back from the creek (frog in hand) to find me packing
"Daddy, can't we stay another day?"
Driving home now He asleep beside me, feet having returned to their dashboard perch
I stop for gas
The man beside me eyes the truck, our gear, my dirty clothes
"It's a lucky boy whose father takes him camping"
But later, driving toward the sunset
Listening to him
Watching him from the corner of my eye
I think of how he's changed my life
And know I am the lucky one
© Steven Givler 2009.
Used here with the author's permission.