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.
