And the Tradition Lives On

Sometimes there's a familiar routine with certain things... something that always happens in the same order at the same time. Always. And that's what driving home with Daddy from somewhere was. A tradition. A routine. Always the same.

When he began slowing down to turn onto our dirt road, he would unsnap his seat-belt. *clickclick*
When I was little I would always worry. What if we had a wreck right after we turned on our road? What if there was a policeman just waiting by our driveway to see whether all seat-belts were firmly fastened? Sometimes I would share these worries with Daddy. And he would chuckle.

Then, as we approached our driveway, he would swerve to the left while rolling down his window to get the mail. He always pulled smoothly up to the mailbox, and when he was ready to drive on, it was the perfect distance from the driveway to turn the van comfortably. That wasn't an accident. When we built our house, he perfected that swerve to the left and then the comfortable turn into the driveway before he positioned the mailbox. The mailbox was in just the right place.

If it was dark, he'd turn the light on to see the mail. He'd take it out, look through it quickly, or sometimes just hand it over to Mama, and then he'd drive into the driveway while clicking the light off and rolling up the window. He had some major skills.

Why do I know all this, down to the very last detail? Because for thirteen years, I was part of that routine every time we came home with Daddy in the driver's seat. I worried every time at the *clickclick* of his seat-belt before we reached our road. I admired his talent at pulling up just so at the mailbox every time. And I miss that.

But...

Tonight, as I neared our road, coming home from church, I found myself reaching for my seat-belt. *clickclick* Immediately, the thought crossed my mind, "what if we have a wreck right after I turn on the road?" I chuckled at myself. As I approached the mailbox, I swerved to the left, rolling my window down. And, okay, I didn't pull up straight. In fact, I scraped the mailbox and had to back up a little, but that's beside the point. I turned on the light, got the mail, looked through it quickly, and drove into the driveway while turning off the light and rolling up the window. Yes, it was a little jerky. And then I realized something. I'm carrying on Daddy's tradition. Not on purpose, but just because that's how I do it. A little one, but it's his. Now it's mine. And I'm glad.