Cat's in the Cradle...

I hear the pager tones going off on my Dad's pager and think, great there he goes again, so much for our plans. This time it feels different. We aren't heading towards home like usual to drop me off. I feel the van lurch forward even before the tones are done squelching. The engine roars as the transmission kicks down into passing gear. All of a sudden I could feel my 8 year old head being pushed back into the headrest of the plush bucket seat. I look out the window and see all the cars and trucks flying by. We screech into the ambulance parking lot. He jumps out of the van and I just sit there. He turns around and asks

"You coming or you gonna sit there all night?"

I grab for the seat belt to unfasten the buckle, jump out of the van, and start to run.

"Hey! Slow down, you never run in this business, what happens if you fall?"

Walking as fast as I can towards the rig, kind of like when you HAVE to make it to the bathroom ASAP or it won't be pretty, all the while thinking, I can't believe he's taking me on a call. Jumping into the passenger seat of the rig, the familiar smell of bleach and warm plastic hits me. I have smelled this many times before doing rig maintenance, rig checks, or just moving rigs around with him, but this time I feel more important. I feel like I am part of a crew. He pulls the rig out of the garage and down the driveway.

"Hey son, turn the lights on for me would ya... How's it look your way?"

Not knowing he's already looking my way, I give the "all clear." Again, the sudden lurch of the heavy rig pulls my head back into the headrest. This time there is no plush headrest, just warm plastic. He flips the siren from one tone to another, and I can't think of how lucky I am to be doing this. What other 8 year old gets to ride in a rig, lights and sirens? The smile on my face must have been very obvious, out of the corner of my eye I could see him smiling at me. I am amazed that how heavy my head feels against the seat. I can't seem to lift my head off the seat.

"Where we going Dad?"

"We need to bring this rig out to the crew, they have a mom and baby in the rig and the muffler fell off. They need to get to Big City Trauma, and it's hard to hear with no muffler"

"OK"

"Once we get there I need you to jump out, walk to the other rig and get in the front. Stay out of the way, and buckle up once your in."

For once I don't think I was asking many questions. I thought if I talked to much my jaw would get ripped off from the forces pressing against my body if I opened my mouth too much. Disappointment came when the broken down rig came into view from around the corner. I knew my ride was almost over. I wanted it to last, like the rides at a carnival, you just don't want them to end. Thinking back now, that ride wasn't the only thing that ended. It was the last time my Dad ever smiled like that, at me or even around me. Everything has gotten so serious. He seems so jaded.

The one thing I took away from that day was that I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up.

To grow up just like him....