My dad would drive me to school at 5:00 a.m. hours before anyone else would arrive. He’d always park miles away at the edge of the school grounds, near a broken fence.
He used to say that walking through the morning mist was “healthy” and a refreshing way to start the day. One foggy morning, I asked why we parked so far away. He shrugged and said it was for the fresh air.
Years later, I discovered the brutal truth, and it destroyed me. My aunt told me that my dad had been struggling to make ends meet after mom left, working double shifts just to keep our car running. I was a kid and had no idea what he’s been going through, he always had a big smile on his face.
Now, looking back 20 years later, I realize that he was parked far away because he didn’t want anyone to see our rusted-out, barely functioning vehicle. He was terrified I’d be made fun of by the other kids if they knew how poor we were. Those early mornings and long walks were his desperate attempt to shield me from the harsh judgment of others.
