at the races

Anita's grandson, Izak, races.

He's been doing it for a few years.

He's pretty good and often wins.

This evening I had the opportunity to watch him for the first time.

As I stood at the fence cheering him on I was blindsided by a slew of memories.

Barberton Speedway.

Real cars.

My daddy going to the pit. He didn't race but he had friends that did.

The sound of the engines.

The smell of the fuel.

Sitting in the stands, wishing my daddy could take me to the pits with him.

My daddy sitting with me, mom and probably my two oldest younger brothers.

A man in front of us talking, loudly.

My daddy standing up and addressing the man,

"My wife and kids are sitting right here. Don't use that kind of language."

Knowing I was loved. Knowing he would fight for me. Feeling protected. 

Oh how I miss my daddy.

All because I stood behind a wire fence watching a go cart race.