A Truck-Stop Father’s Day

“What the heck does the old man want?”

It was Father’s Day morning and in a rural truck stop in the middle of Nowhere, Mississippi, a panicked man combed the aisles for something to give his dad. So far, no dice (although there were some for sale on aisle four.) He knew how the Wise men must have felt on their trip. Finding a last-minute gift was hard while on the road (and there was no gold, frankincense or myrrh in this truck stop.)

“Wonder if he’d like a little pine-tree air freshener?”

He pondered the gift and hung it back on the hook.  This truck stop looked like the bar scene from Star Wars and was filled with equally exotic merchandise. Where else could you find porn and Joel Osteen books next to each other?

“A set of lockable lug nuts? A giant beef jerky? A radar detector? A red-pickled egg? A book-on-tape? A can of WD-40?  A beer koozie? A pet tornado? A styrofoam cooler? A six-pack of PBR? A Rebel Flag beach towel? A Biloxi Lighthouse paperweight? A cotton field snow globe? ”  His mind whirled as the desperation set in.

“A gift card for the attached Taco Bell? — Here dad, here’s a chalupa.”

He noticed a couple of other guys wandering around the truck stop looking for something — anything — to give their dads today.  The looked like Zombies in search of brains. But there were no brains on his aisle.

“Oh crap, I forgot a card.” A little old lady with blue hair and a giant Snickers looked at him like he had lost his mind.

“Jumper cables.  Maybe your dad would like some jumper cables,” she said, half sarcastically.

“Hmm. That’s an idea.  Maybe he’d love that and a paddle that says, ‘heat for your seat.’   And even maybe a t-shirt that says ‘My son forgot Father’s Day and all I got was this stupid T-shirt.”

His desperation had made him sink to a new low.

He picked up the snow globe and set of lug nuts.  He loved his dad more than this. Really.  He plopped them down on the counter with his Big Gulp-sized sugary drink (Mayor Bloomberg be darned) and pulled out his debit card.

“You forgot, too, eh?” The cashier had more sympathy in her voice than he deserved.

“Um, yeah.”

“Here’s a nice bag to put them in.  Good luck with that.”

••••••••••••••••••••••

His car headed down the old two-lane, oak-lined road until he saw the familiar beat-up mailbox.  The car’s tires rolled across the gravel, making that familiar sound that always made his heart race —  It was the sound that meant he was home.  He honked the horn and saw the front door fly open.

There, graying but still standing proudly, was his dad.

As he got out of the car, the humidity fogged his glasses — it was Mississippi in the summertime after all — and he carefully headed to greet him.

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.” The two men embraced for a moment and then the son handed his dad the bag.  The older man looked into it and started to laugh loudly.

“I can see your butt in the middle of a truck stop trying to pick me out the right truck-stop gift. I was secretly hoping for the air freshener and the pickled egg.”

The son turned red with embarrassment.

Then the dad put his hands on his son’s shoulders.  “Boy, you gave me the best gift of all.  You’re my son. And you’ve also given me another precious gift — your love. But the best gift you’ve given me today is your time.  Although I have to admit, I needed some lug nuts. No offense — I’ll regift the snow globe to your mama, though. Our anniversary is coming up.”

And on that truck-stop Father’s Day, father and son stood out in the hot Mississippi sun and laughed.