Everywhere I look I see traces of my dad

but never so much

as in the truck he left behind

And although I know I’ll never forget him

or who he was

or what he looked liked because he’s

captured in photographs

It is most obvious in the truck he left behind

Maybe that is why I never moved these

little traces of my dad,

the bottle of motor oil,

his notebook with his handwriting

his hat – his tools – his battery cables - his gloves

Because every time I get in the truck

I am enveloped by traces of my dad

and it is as if

he never left me behind

If I sit still and quiet,

closing my eyes in the hush

I can almost see his hand on the steering wheel

and almost hear him say

“Let’s stop at Hardy’s for a biscuit.”

These traces of my dad.

Maybe that’s why I never moved

these traces of my dad

they remind me that he was just here

these traces of my dad

I miss him

2008 © Nan C