Middle School Writing: ‘Construction’ by Hannah Lozano
HANNAH LOZANO 1st PLACE MIDDLE SCHOOL
Construction
Being the daughter of a truck driver isn’t as nice as it seems. The words “truck
driver” and “father” in one sentence immediately sends people into thinking of an empty
chair at home and missed moments. It always goes back to your kids. They either grow to
miss you or grow anger towards you for being absent. But in my case, I know why my dad is
gone: he does it for his family. For that, I can never grow angry towards him, but that doesn’t
mean I can’t miss him for being the funny, loving, supportive, patient father he is. I’m aware
that he’s doing it for all the right reasons, but I can’t help but think how he should stay with
his wife, with his kids, and with his family. His absence gives us all a sense of longing that
can’t be fulfilled with one family outing, just for work to be right behind at every hour of the
day.
My dad has taught me that the reason why you’re leaving is more important than the
amount of time you’re gone for. My dad does things that most fathers wouldn’t be able to if
they were in his position: things like not seeing your family for an entire week, only to be
with them for a day before having to go back on the road. The severe weather he goes
through—the snow in Nevada, the extreme heat in Arizona, the tornadoes in Texas—all of
that just to get back to us, his family. I see how his face falls when he realizes he has to go
back to work, or how regretful he seems packing his things, he doesn’t ever leave before
telling us that we’re loved by him, that we shouldn’t forget that. Even if one of us has had an
argument with him, he doesn’t leave without us telling him goodbye. And we won’t let him
leave until we’ve said it back. “Be safe.” We tell him. “I love you.” We hug him before he’s
gone, the ghost of him in our house noticeable. The best thing that happens when he’s gone is
when we get calls from him. It builds our happiness, and our bond with him strengthens. His
durability to complete this sacrifice has already been built but ours is still being constructed.
Construction plans are heavy work, they might shift since it’s a chaotic process. You
have to build the structure by every brick, every pole, because steadiness isn’t made in a short
amount of time. My dad gave me the base before I ever understood the meaning of leaving
something behind. He knew why he was giving it up: stability for the most important people
in his life. The steps to building something takes patience and understanding. It can’t be
constructed by a team of one or else it’ll fall. With people there to help you, you can be
dependent on others. My dad promises he’ll come back and every time he gets back safely, a
brick is added. Every time I say bye to him, there’s one more beam. He builds it by returning
home and I shape it by believing that he will. I’m a beam in this construction, I have to
support the base of my foundation, just like resilience. I grew into concrete, sturdy and
supportive, encouraging my dad to add another brick. I’ve grown strength from having to
sacrifice one of the things that I yearn for the most. That thing being time with my dad
because I get to share how great he is with others. My dad’s bosses and co-workers get to
know why he’s worthy of his job.
The construction has cracks in it. Not everything is perfect. But we’re not aiming for
perfection because the aim is growth and certainty. I’d never take another moment for
granted in my life after being aware of what he’d given up for us whether I was scared. I
wanted to crush every challenge that came my way with grace because the greatest gift we
have is time, so we should use it wisely. Every time he got called into work, it built a
certainty, a bond, a secure connection that was so invincible, it reached across states. I’d
mistaken faults for the feeling of being let down. I’d mistaken attendance for love. I’d
mistaken staying for resilience and I’ve never been more wrong. Now I know that thinking
you’ve been failed time and time again means unwanted sacrifice, that the cause for being
somewhere else should be treasured greater than missed presences, and that being strong is
being gone so your children won’t ever have to be. I was only able to see past my world of
gray, with the help of my kaleidoscope, my dad.
7th Grade, Ánimo James B. Taylor
Guiding Teacher: LaShawnae Smith
