10-4 Magazine November 2023

10-4 Magazine / November 2023 81 Poetry in Motion: By Trevor Hardwick MEMORIES OF DAD I look ahead… I see the wind is blowing cold. I think ahead to what awaits, Out on that frozen road. And up ahead… Just like my old man used to say. Another dollar waits, For someone tryin’ to earn the pay. But looking back… I see the warmth that you provide. The searing heat within your love, That warms me up inside. And looking back… I see the reason I push on. The irony in why I let, These wheels roll so long. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Here comes the colder weather. And with it comes the harsh driving conditions we all contend with, year in and year out. It’s certainly not my favorite time of year, but I can still nd things to be thankful for. I won’t sit here and list them all out, but I’m certainly thankful for my Savior, Jesus Christ, my lovingwife, Alicia, and of course, my family andmy job. Speaking of family, if you’ve been reading my poems in this ne magazine for a while, then you already know how highly I esteem the memories of my dad. He is the very reason I am so deeply rooted in this trucking lifestyle. And I nd myself resembling him more and more as the years roll by. I hear him in my voice, and I hear him imparting his “road-scholar” wisdom on me whenever I nd myself in challenging situations. I look back, fondly, on the years I had with him. I look around to nd him in my daily routine, and I look forward to seeing him again someday, to share stories of the road with him again. Sometimes I even startle myself when I catch him looking back at me – in my own re ection! And I am thankful for that, as well. I hope you enjoy this poem I call “Looking Back” and that you can relate to it, as well. Have a great Thanksgiving everyone! LOOKING BACK By Trevor Hardwick I look ahead… I see the daylight slipping fast. The road stretched-out before me, Is a vicious twisted path. And up ahead… There ain’t no easy row to hoe. It’s gonna be a long dark night, Of drifting blowing snow. But looking back… I think of times with my old man. His sleeves rolled to the elbows, A bone-white wheel in his hands. And looking back… He was younger than I am now. How’d he seem so wise, Beyond his years then, anyhow? I look around… I’m doing what I’m born to do. And just like my old man, I get a little grayer too. And lookin’ around… I see his mark upon my life. To chase the open road, And love an understanding wife. I look ahead… I’m seeing fewer passing cars. The night has gotten deeper, And the clouds give way to stars. And just ahead… I see the bright November moon. Indicating I might see, Some drier pavement soon. Then looking back… I’m glad the storm’s behind me now. And I wonder why I even, Felt so nervous, anyhow. And looking back… I see the smoke roll frommy stack. And the image in my windshield, Of my old man… looking back.