The highways are the same, the nights are long, and sometimes the weather turns so bad that I have to pull over and wait for the storm to pass.
But I no longer measure my life only by the distance I travel or the money I bring home.
I call Sofia every evening when I am away. If she cannot answer, I leave a message and wait for her to call back. When I am home, I make time for her, even when I am tired.
I also learned to pay attention to the things people do not say.
A daughter who stops asking for things.
A child who apologizes for taking up space.
A teenager who looks frightened when her own father walks through the door.
Those are not always signs of ordinary teenage behavior.
Sometimes they are warnings.
The worst thing I found in Patricia’s bedroom was not the hidden compartment, the documents, or the recording that helped expose what she had been doing.
