Moving: The biggest pain for any person. As a child it means leaving all your friends (even if you’re moving 2 blocks away—it ruins the memorized 8 minute bike ride to your best friends’ house). When going to college, it means packing away your life into compact bags and boxes, making life decisions on whether to bring ALL your hooded sweatshirts or make room for your stylish pajama pants. And post-college it means sweating through a hangover by moving broken furniture that should be on the corner with a “For Free” sign. But never free, any time you have to move or pack, Dad is there to answer the call.
Dad’s have an uncanny ability to make anything fit in a suitcase, box, trunk or drawer. “There, the bag is full” you state as you wipe off the sweat. “Not quite,” as Dad goes in for good measurement, simply rolling up your tshirts, shifting a few trinkets and he magically has made your three favorite jerseys fit for the move.
And when Dad isn’t making everything fit into your moving boxes, he is busy throwing out his back by lifting your non-flat screen TV. Dad will move all furniture in an inefficient effective manner. That spiral staircase? Yeah Dad is moving your dresser down that. Your tempurpedic mattress? Yeah, Dad will be dragging that to the U-haul.
When the truck is finally packed with boxes, lamps and bed frames, Dad takes over his duty as transporter. Jason Statham couldn’t drive a U-haul better than Dad. No mirrors? No problem—Dad will weave in and out of alleys, six corner intersections and under trees as if he has driven that automobile his whole life.
And when everything is finally moved, Dad will give you the slight nod of “you owe me.” And while Dad will complain about “the time he helped you move” for the next five Christmas’, you know that Dad secretly lives for it.