Vignette I wrote about my dad:
Driving
My father picked me up from school with our suitcases stored safely in the trunk. He told me to put my backpack in the back seat. I had been shaking with excitement all week, my heart beating felt like the beak of a baby chick breaking through its egg. I had barely been able to focus on school work all week, this trip was all that was on my mind. My father and I were driving down to Florida. We have a plan to go to all the national parks in the US, because my father is able to get into all the parks for free. My dad served in the army for 9 years, starting when he was 17. As a way of thanking him for his service, he is now able to visit all the National Parks in the US for free. When I sat down in the car, where I would stay for the next few hours, I looked to my dad. He was looking at the road ahead, but his smile lit up the car like a beacon. I could tell then that my father felt the same excitement as me leading up to this trip. We talked as the drive began, my father has always loved to tell me stories about his life. I love listening to him tell me these stories. The way he spins words in the same way a spider spins silk to create an intricate web. He has lived a life filled with such excitement. I remember wishing my life was as exciting as his. He has so many stories to tell. Despite having told me so many stories already, I know he still has so many he hasn’t yet told me. I always learn something from him, and he always has some form of advice whenever we speak. He’s made this drive many times in his life, but this was our first time driving this road together. As we spoke, the clouds outside gradually shifted. The bright blue of the sky slowly began to swirl with deep navy shades, before eventually turning from day to night. I didn’t notice at first, since my father’s smile lit up the car like a nightlight. His stories were so expertly crafted that I became engrossed in the worlds he created using words. At that moment I wasn’t in the car, I was inside a storybook. I was living out my fathers life through the pages, putting myself in the scuffed shoes he wore at my age. When my father was my age, he always wore his Levi’s and was called a “hood” by others. Those others spoke from their front porches, with their own big rooms and fancy cars. They thought my father would never get out of town, they thought he didn't have a chance to make it in the world outside of the small one they had created. They never thought he’d be able to break through the walls of the box they shoved him into with the other kids they deemed “hoods”. That was, until he joined the army. He got out, and brought many stories with him to share and give me advice on how to succeed. As the sunlight switched places with her sister, the moon, My eyelids began to feel heavy. I was sinking into the seat below me, and the last thing I remember before I fell asleep was my father telling me we would find somewhere to stay when we got to Delaware. The soft noise of the engine and the rocking of my fathers pickup truck lulled me to sleep, the wheels of the truck safely bringing me towards my dreams. The drive to the Everglades with my father taught me a lot about life. There were a couple roadblocks along the ride, we had to take a few detours. But we got to our destination eventually. Though the drive is never truly done, we still often need to get back into that big pickup truck to move onto our next destination, the next chapter in the storybook I will write. The storybook I will share with my children, and when I die will be placed on the bookshelf next to my father’s book of stories in the vast library filled by generations of my family's stories. Each chapter another mile on the road, another few gallons of gas slowly filling up the tank of the truck. More fuel, to create more stories. A never ending cycle of words, filling up the shelves of stories spanning generations. They’re filled with memories, memories we never really write down but will always be remembered.
Lmk if you want me to post more of these! I have two more vignettes I wrote that I’m willing to share
