I woke this past Sunday morning and reached for my phone to check the time. A typical day for me. Rising in the truck, making my bed, making coffee, a bowl of cereal, washing my face, brushing my teeth, and so on. The comfort of bringing routine to the constant change of the road.
The email icon was alive in the notification bar on my phone. Junk mail on this Sunday morning? No. A message from my brother.
"....... I am in hospital.....pain in my joints......bloodwork......white cells high....red cells low.....platelets low..... waiting for specialist.....love you all"
Shit!
It's in these moments that the cab of a long haul truck turns from being a means of freedom & adventure to one of isolation & seperation.
I love my brother.
The road inside our heads is the most difficult to travel.
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