Somedays I See You Everywhere

 I drove down a random street in Utah the other day, and there was your truck.  Even the same interior.  It startled me.  I knew it wasn't you.  My head knew it.  My heart wished it.   I see your truck everywhere.  Who knew how many old Ford trucks are around.  Around town, out of town.  Everywhere I go, there you are.  Every morning I come back from the gym and expect to see you climbing into your truck getting ready to go to work.  Sometimes I look outside expecting to see your truck parked outside, next to the garbage cans, facing up the hill so you don't have to back it up when you leave.   Every once in a while, sitting on the porch, I see an old black Ford on the back road and I remember how much I hate that back road.  The back road that took so much from us.  I have ALWAYS hated that back road.  I hate it even more now.  

I can't imagine how bad it hurt you.  The physical pain.  Your grandpa's truck.  Your pride and joy.  I can't comprehend how horrible it must have been.  I wish I could have comforted you.  I wish I could have held your hand and told you it would be okay, that we would all be okay.  I wish I could have made it alright.  Sometimes Nate has dreamed about you turning on the back road and has cried out for you to go the other way.  If only we could go back in time.  If only!  I wonder, will I always expect it to be you when I see an old truck?  Probably.  Because I know there will never be a day that I don't miss  you.