Of all the memories of my father, the one that I always remember is us driving a bread truck. I don’t know why this is the memory that stands out, and often wonder what my kids will remember me by.

It’s a hazy memory, he picked me up really early in the morning and we made our way to the bread factory. To a kid this place was gigantic. I got to see how the bread moved along the conveyor belt into molds and ovens, fully automated. The smell is easy to recall, the smell of freshly baked bread 🍞

He loaded up the truck 🛻 and we made rounds to local grocery stores. I sat in the cabin of what seemed like a huge truck and we exchanged very few words, mostly just feeling the bumps of the road and smelling that freshly baked bread. Maybe it’s the smell that reinforced this memory.

Many years later, after he has long passed, I spend days with my own kids, wondering which of our moments together they may recall after I’m long gone. Will it be one of the nice days, or something less pleasant. Has this day already occurred or is it still to come? Whatever the moment, I hope there are many to choose from.

Good night 😴