The man in the picture is my husband. He works 70 hours a week delivering goods to warehouses that supply your stores with everything from the necessary to the frivolous. He’s a truck driver. It isn’t a glamorous life by any means, but he loves to drive, and when I get the chance, I love to ride with him.
We used to be homeless. I rode with him during that time, and I got to see places I had never been. I took pictures of places that were breath-taking, and hear him laugh as he drove me through Utah filling the memory on his phone due to all the beautiful sites out of the truck window. The truck was our home. We didn’t have Ruby then. It was just us, the open road, unlimited data, and the truck. To be honest, it was one of the happiest times in my life. The only bills was the phone.
We did get a plan with two phones and a hot spot later. We even got a couple of laptops. We got to watch shows and goof off. We loved it, even though we did get on one another’s nerves from time to time, but being a small space like that can do that to anyone.
Getting an apartment was nerve-racking and exciting at the same time. We both knew it meant more bills, but it was time to drop anchor somewhere. I would be the one staying home. He would be coming home every so often. For most, this would be a challenge. For us, it meant long stretches without seeing one another, but not being without each other.
We would talk on phone, at first, for hours. Now, he calls a couple of times a day. If he parks where he can get good internet, it’s game time. Yes, we are both gamers, and we will play together until he winds down enough to go to sleep.
I am not going to candy-coat it. Being a trucker’s wife isn’t easy. I don’t think this could work with anyone else but him. I trust him completely, and we click. We also communicate and are honest with one another to a fault. I do worry if he is eating the way he should and if he’s getting enough rest. I know he worries about me as well.
It is a long-distance relationship, of a sort. That takes dedication and devotion.
I tend to drop off the internet when he gets home. I am not the least bit guilty about that. I cherish the time I get to spend with him. We laugh, watch television, and do… married things. I will let your imagination run with that one.
So, the next time you see a big rig going down the highway, don’t complain that it’s taking up a lot of the road. If it wasn’t for truckers, you wouldn’t have your stuff.
Until Next Time,
Anissa “Maddy” Walker
House of Geek 