A few adults smiled at that.
Then I kept going.
“But when the country got scared and the roads went quiet, I was still out there.”
The gym changed.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just still.
“I hauled baby formula when parents were panicking. I hauled canned soup when shelves were stripped. I hauled the kind of medicine people wait on in small towns where there’s one pharmacy, one clinic, and no room for delay.”
Now nobody was moving.
“I missed birthdays. I missed school plays. One Christmas Eve, I ate crackers in my cab behind a dark loading dock because my trailer had to be at a distribution center before dawn. If I turned around and went home, somebody else’s kids woke up to less.”
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