Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Orange (the color) (11/19/09)
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TITLE: At the Station | Previous Challenge Entry
By
11/26/09 -
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“We’re a little early, June Ann,” Dad said as he rolled down the window a crack. “Let’s wait in the truck.” He shook out a cigarette from the package of Marlboros. I heard the soft scratch of the match. The tiny fire eagerly lit the paper and tobacco. The end of the cigarette glowed bright orange as he sucked in the fumes. Smoke curled out the truck window.
I worried about my dad. Would he get sick, get lung cancer from smoking? Headed back to college after Christmas break, I worried about things like that. What if I never see him again? There were things I wanted to say. Things I wanted to hear from him. I didn’t know how to start as Dad wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, especially the sentimental stuff.
I watched as he took another drag, the end glowing fiercely. The orange radiance faintly outlined my dad’s weathered face. Farming year after year baked in permanent wrinkles.
What should I say? Should I thank him for giving me this chancel? I knew the cost was great, but he never said anything. I felt so thrilled to be learning how to be a teacher. It was like food that nourished my soul. Teaching young children someday was a dream I acquired many years ago. I wondered what had been his dream when he was 19? Did Dad what to farm all of his life? What if he didn’t? Did I really want to know that maybe he didn’t?
The truck’s interior glowed dimly again while dad took another drag,
There were times I wished he would just talk to me like an adult. I pictured us chatting about the pros and cons of the political issues, about farm bills, stuff that was important in his world. Then we’d switch gears and talk about what matter to me.
The last puff of the cigarette and then was snubbed out.
“Hoot hoot” blasted the whistle of the train pulling into the station. The fog tried to contain the train, but the huge steaming machine punched through, hissing and screeching to a stop. Wishing I could punch through my fears, I knew opportunity was laughing at me. Time had run out. He turned to look at me. Did he sense my thoughts? I watched as he opened his door.
“Time to go, Honey,”
I got out of the truck. Closed the door. Dad got my suitcase out of the truck bed. Not a word was exchanged as we walked to the platform. He set the case down and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat.
“Here’s your ticket,” Dad handed it to me. Surprised by the warmth of his fingers, I nearly dropped the ticket. I didn’t feel well. I wanted to stay home, and be with him, Mom, my siblings. Bile churned and began moving up my throat.
“All Aboard to Wichita.” A loud, brassy voice called. “All aboard.”
I swallowed hard, keeping tears at bay. “Goodbye, Daddy.”
“Goodbye June Ann. Make good grades. Your mom is so proud of you.”
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you proud of me?” Afraid of the answer I looked at the train as it hissed again.
There was a pause. I looked back at Dad and saw tears in his eyes. I threw myself into his arms. That firm hug was all the talk I needed. I kissed his cheek.
“Thanks, Daddy,” He handed my suitcase to me and waved as I boarded the train.
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