Drive Safe

Journal

My dad never said 'I love you.' He said 'drive safe' instead.

Every time I left the house for twenty years — school, dates, college — same two words at the door. 'Drive safe.'

I used to roll my eyes. 'Dad, it's just the grocery store.' He'd say it anyway. Every single time.

The night before my wedding, I was packing my car. Dad came out, stood by the door, and said it one more time. And suddenly I heard it.

'Drive safe.' Twenty years of it. It was never about the driving. It was the only way he knew how to say 'I love you.'

The next day, he walked me down the aisle. At the end, he kissed my cheek and whispered it one last time.

As we drove away, I leaned out the window and shouted it back: 'Drive safe, Dad!' He laughed. He cried. So did I.

He still says it every time I leave. And now I say it back. Two words. That's all it ever was.