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    You are at:Home»Poetry In Motion»Call Of The Open Road
    Poetry In Motion

    Call Of The Open Road

    By Trevor HardwickMay 1, 2015No Comments3 Mins Read
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    MayPoemPicAren’t we all just a little fickle? We want something, and then when we get it, we are drawn to something completely opposite. Growing up, those of us who were determined to hit the road, couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel and chase down the horizon. But, even being out there “living the dream” can get old from time to time. And when you have a growing family at home, the tug on your heart to head for the house can often overpower the call of the road. Nevertheless, when you finally get home, you spend some long overdue time with your loved ones – kiss the wife, pet the dog, mark the kids’ heights against the wall, and then… you hear it… you feel it… you can’t ignore it – the call of the road becomes so clear that even your family knows you are already gone, in your mind, and the fickle nature of your truckin’ blood turns into a desire to get out and roll. It’s been said that a trait of a great driver is to be forward thinking and looking far ahead, always anticipating the next move, far in advance. Our minds think in forward motion, noticeably and undeniably, miles away. Thanks to my friend Kim Grimm for the great picture!

    MILES AWAY
    By Trevor Hardwick

    It’s early in the morning,
    The sun is peaking through the blinds.
    The kids are slowly waking,
    Leaving sleepy dreams behind.

    Cartoons on the television,
    Frosted Flakes are strewn about.
    Fido scratching at the door,
    Someone better let him out.

    Mama throws the covers back,
    And stumbles out to meet the day.
    And here I am, the wheel in hand,
    A couple thousand miles away.

    The pictures hanging in the hallway,
    Match the pictures on my dash.
    And by the time that I get home,
    I’ll realize they’ve grown so fast.

    Sister with her soccer ball,
    Brother with his baseball bat.
    I may not be there physically,
    But that is where my heart is at.

    They’re loading up the station wagon,
    Headed into town to play.
    And here I am, the wheel in hand,
    A couple thousand miles away.

    I guess I’m not complaining,
    I chose the path that works for me.
    At times I do start contemplating,
    If this is where I want to be.

    My wife and kids are understanding,
    They’re proud of me for what I do.
    We try to live a “normal” life,
    Every other week or two.

    Ironically, when I get home,
    They know that I’m not here to stay.
    Cause in my mind, I’m chasin’ lines,
    A couple thousand miles away!

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    Previous ArticleDion’s Dump
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    Trevor Hardwick

    Trevor Hardwick is a 3rd generation truck driver who has been in love with all things truck-related since he was “delivered” (pun intended). When he was a kid, Trevor began using artwork and poetry as a means of staying connected to trucking, and still loves doing it today. Trevor lives in Stanwood, Washington with his wife Alicia, and has been a regular contributor to 10-4 Magazine since January of 2008. Alicia puts up with Trevor’s love affair with trucks and also shares his outspoken devotion to their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

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