Road Dog

Picture it. Me. Third Grade. My teacher Mrs. Walton stands in front of the class gliding her hand across a map of the United States. At that age, you really don’t have the scope of the world abroad because your view is still limited. It’s not until that view is questioned that you start to really think about it. We’re shaped by our experiences and at this point I hadn’t had many. She asked….

“How many of you have been out of the country?” One or two hands were raised. “Okay. How many have been out of the state?”

The majority of my class raises their hands. I looked around at all my classmates and felt my self-consciousness start to creep in. The reason being is that at this point, I had never left Texas. But then my nerves kicked into overdrive when she asked this.

“How many of you haven’t left the state of Texas?”

Only two or three hands went up, mine being one of them. A sadness came over me, followed by shame. You aren’t aware of your lack of experiences until it’s made known. No one likes feeling left out and in this moment I felt alone. You feel like everyone is secretly judging you. In the case of one of my classmates…

“You’ve really never left Texas???”

Yeah, thanks for that. And like with most things, my mind went down the rabbit hole. Why haven’t I been anywhere? Why haven’t my parents taken me anywhere? Am I destined to just not to go anywhere? The spotlight effect was in full swing.

As class and, ultimately, the school day ended, the conversation from earlier still played in the corners of mind. I asked a few of my friends outside of class if they had been out of the state. Each of them started to tell me their stories and I realized I didn’t have one. My mama pulled up and I hopped in the car.

“How was your day?”

“Good. Why haven’t I been anywhere?” I said, jumping straight to the point. No time for small talk. She laughed.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, all of my classmates have left Texas before, but I haven’t.”

“So? You’re alive and healthy. That’s all that matters” she said.

Clearly, she didn’t understand the brevity of the situation and that answer did nothing for me. I decided to drop the subject with her and move on to something different.

When I got home, my dad was there.

“Daddy.”

“Yeah, boy”

“All of my classmates have been out of state, and I’ve been nowhere. “

“You’ve been places before.”

“But I’ve never been out of state. Have you been out of state?”

“Yeah, I have. But when I was your age, I hadn’t been out of state,” he says.

Oddly, this makes me feel a little better, but I was still bummed that I was missing out on an experience so many of my peers had.

Weeks go by and my lack of travel has retreated to the recesses of my mind. That is until my dad comes up to me and says…

“So boy, I’m going to Louisiana to see some of our cousins this weekend. You wanna go?”

My thoughts moved quickly. Louisiana? Wait! Louisiana isn’t Texas.

“YES!!!!” I respond, quite enthusiastically.

“Okay, we’re going up to Shreveport Saturday.”

“Okay!” I beamed.

On Saturday, we hopped in the car and made the drive to Shreveport. Fortunately, it’s about as far as Dallas, which is about an hour and half. I saw the sign that said, ‘Leaving Texas’ and then another that said, ‘Welcome to Louisiana’. I smiled.

I’m looking out the window, amazed to see all the interesting sites that we passed by.

We head to our cousins’ house, who are around my dad’s age, and they have a good long talk on the front porch. I mean, a really long talk. As a kid, with a short attention span, I was bored out of my mind. I explored the area around the outside of the house, but I didn’t stray too far.

When we left, we went to get some seafood at a restaurant my dad had been to before. The food was delicious, and I ate good. My dad told me we had to start heading back since the sun was starting to set and mama would be upset if we came back too late.

On the car ride back, I’m sipping on my To-Go Drink when my dad says…

“Well, boy, now you can say, that you’ve been out of state.”

He looks at me and grins. All I could do is smile back.

Most of my adventures outside our hometown was because of him. Our church member thought I was his favorite because everywhere my dad went, I was with him. She called me his road dog and I was. Let the record show, my sister was his favorite, but I was a close second. From movies to football games to parades and the zoo, I did so much with my dad, and he would do anything for his kids. My dad took what I said to heart. Something that meant a lot to me, meant a lot to him and that meant the world.

In 2012, we lost my dad. After a yearlong battle of health issues, he passed away. I was 25. I remember my older brother asking me did I feel like I got to spend enough time with daddy since I was much younger than them. I said…

“Absolutely.”

All of the car rides and the trips and stories and lessons and advice and wisdom he gave me, I’ll keep with me forever.

In the third grade, I didn’t have a story to tell my friends and because of my dad, I now have a story to tell you. Thanks, Dad.