Roll on…

As Alabama’s “Roll On” began playing through the car stereo the other night, I tried to really listen to the words of that song. I know it, word for word, because the song has been on the radio longer than I have been alive. But it seemed to really hit home while my oldest child was sleeping after a long week at school and a complete and utterly embarrassing meltdown at daycare, and her little sister sat quietly next to her in the back seat, peering out the window into the fading daylight.

As I took a quick peek in my rear-view mirror, silent tears started streaming down my face as I realized how this song has become my family’s anthem.

Their dad  was still on the road, heading home from hauling cattle to the sale a hundred miles away for some good friends of ours. He’s been on the road for what feels like forever; in reality it hasn’t been that much, and he has been home at night more than before he became a self-employed trucker.

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Loaded up and ready to roll.

That said, it doesn’t make life in our house any easier.

The girls miss their daddy, and I do too. Not only do they tell me on a pretty regular basis, but I see it in their eyes that they know things are different. It is a strange thing for me, because my dad was always around growing up. The good thing is that it isn’t always this way.

I miss our semi-normal routine when their dad is gone; and although I maintain a pretty tight ship whether my husband is home or not, it is tiring to do it all alone.

I secretly worry every time the wheels on our truck turn. I worry he hasn’t had enough sleep, I worry about other drivers, I worry about the weather; even though I know my husband is more than capable to handle anything the miles under his tires might throw at him. Worry does no good, but just like a child, I can’t help but worry a little about him. I guess that’s what happens when you love someone a hell of a lot.

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I am blessed to have a man in my love that loves his family very fiercely.

I pray for the scales to be closed, yet I know and appreciate the importance the DOT workers do to keep all of us safe- no matter the headache it causes my husband and the other drivers we know.

I both despise the sound of the phone ringing, yet can’t help but wish for the work to steadily pour in. Sometimes I struggle to not tell the guy on the other end how self-absorbed he is, calling my house at supper time, asking my husband to leave his wife and kids; while I can hear his family in the background of the call. But the truth is that we signed up for this when we went into business for ourselves.

I hate when he is gone, yet sometimes (secretly) wish for him to be gone for a couple days; you know, so I can have some time to myself…

When he is gone overnight, I never sleep very well.  The kids hate the fact they don’t get to see their daddy in the morning, and the drama seems more constant. I know there are a lot of kids and wives that see their dads and husbands a lot less, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful- I admire the hell out of Shane for busting his butt day after day to help us chase our dreams. If it takes him being on the road, I guess the kids and I will keep on singing these words:

“Roll on family, Roll on along; Roll on Daddy till you get back home; roll on family, roll on through; roll on mama like I ask you to do, roll on eighteen-wheeler, Roll On!”

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To all you wives and mommas out there, holding down the fort; and to all you guys making a living on the road: God bless you. Thank you for all the work you do behind the scenes to keep America rolling on!

~Much love,

Richelle

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