Tribute to A Trucker's Wife

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It takes a special woman

to make a truck driver's wife.

It is not easy for God's tender creation

to live such a life.

A life where you must be both mother and father

while your husband is gone.

When you put your day's work aside,

you go to bed alone.

And there lay awake thinking of the day

your husband will come home.

You must go about

with the strength of a man.

You manage the household,

make decisions and plans.

Though as strong as a man,

you may not be

You never let the world know

when you're weak.

You always hold your head high

and do the best that you can.

When those times come

where all things go wrong

And it's no longer possible

for you to remain strong.

These are the times your

heart quakes with pain

And tears from your eyes

fall like torrential rain.

You would that your husband were there

to wipe the tears from you face.

You wish you could feel the strength of his arms,

his loving embrace.

Greatly you long to know that he cares.

You need to be reminded that he shares

your dreams and your fears.

As the pain becomes unbearable,

the telephone rings.

You hear the voice of your lover

and your heart begins to sing.

As you feel the warmth of his touch

thru the telephone wire

His words quicken your spirit,

rekindle you fire.

You thank God that the chat,

no matter how brief

Has come just in time to fend off your grief.

Sometimes in your dreams,

I suppose you imagine yourself many great things.

While in your heart you know you will never live in a palace,

never be a queen.

But for you to attain highness,

of such grandor there is no need.

You already are one of the greatest women

the world's ever seen.

You are that special woman it takes

to be a truck driver's wife.

I do truly love and thank God

I have you as part of my life.

To you, all my love, my darling wife.

 BY: Scott Wilkins

In A Box

 Schneider National Carriers, Inc.

From inside a box, high above the ground on which I travel,
peering through a plate of glass.
I watch this world, my world, your world go by.

Ever vigilant to what is happening around me,
I have seen life anew itself
and death at what could be at its worst.

I have seen love and kindness that lightens ones heart
and makes life worth living.
I have seen hate that could blacken a soul and take that life away again.

Always moving at a rapid pace, never stopping
but for what seems to be a few moments in time.
The sun rises from the black, only to fall back again.

It leaves me alone in the cool night air,
with only the ever present humming from the beast beneath my feet
which aids me along my way, and the sound of the wind being forced
around me as I hurry along, the many paths that I have to follow.

The days pass like the miles that I cover, rapidly and unknowingly aging me
without a care to how long I have been here,
or how long I will be here.

The seasons pass like a few days in a week;
spring, summer, fall and winter.
One never seeming to last as long as it should.

There are many around me hurrying to their homes to be with family and friends,
never caring where I have been, where I am going,
what I have brought or what I have taken.

Some just want me to get it there and to move along.
To others I am in the way,
wasting their precious time.

If they only knew how precious that time at home with family and friends is,
and that we, the men and women in the boxes, are like the blood that
pumps through their veins, keeping them going and alive.

For without us, there would be hunger, death, and mass confusion
as all would come to a halt.
Perhaps then time would stand still long enough for me to take a breath.

Yes, I am a truck driver. Though mostly a thankless job,
I knowingly do what must be done from inside this box
for my survival as well as yours.

1997 Daniel Filley




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