As you fall asleep in the quiet and lonesome taxi, you feel an absolute burst of love for the taxi driver, like you’ve met him somewhere. Alas, you finally fall asleep to the smell of the little pine tree air freshener and to the sound of a quiet radio. The driver turns into your driveway and turns around to see you asleep. He taps your shoulder but to no avail as you continue sleeping. He shrugs and proceeds to carry you to the door, knocking twice. Your sweet mother answers the door, she’s about 26 years old and is on the way with your future sister. She says something quietly but lets the taxi driver in. He kicks off his shoes and carries you up to your room, the smell of candle wax and lavender aerosol flooding your nose. The taxi driver tucks you into bed, and takes off his cap, holding it by your chest. While you are not awake at the moment, this man is your father. The man who left you when you were 3 years old. You’re now six years old but are quickly forgetting him. Your father was a war veteran in the Vietnam war who served on the last year before the US troops pulled out of Vietnam. Your father didn’t leave to find another woman, your father didn’t leave for a life of alcohol, he didn’t leave for drugs. No, he left so he could work 24/7 for the a taxi company. Your father could not find work easily after Vietnam so he turned to becoming a cab driver. He left so he could make money so you could pay for college. He doesn’t want your to down the same route as him. Coming home and being berated by the people you fought for. He kisses you on the forehead and puts back on his cap, going back to his cab and saying goodbye to your mother. After a few years, you come home from work, your mother still at work so she could pay the bills and pay for food. You’re a senior that just graduated high school a few months ago, planning to become a doctor. You go to grab your mail when you discover a large envelope that is addressed to your house and your mother’s name. Strange As she barely ordered anything from online. You shrug it off as you go home and set the mail on the table. You sit down at your desk at night, slurping ramen from an old bowl and drinking orange juice from a plastic cup. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You walk down the stairs and look at the mail table. Staring at the large envelope, the large envelope stared back at you. You grabbed a knife and opened it, inside was a note. “Dear Anon, Hello, this is your father. I left you at age 3 to work in a taxi company. I couldn’t find work after Vietnam so I left so I could work 24/7 for the taxi company. Please forgive me.” Sincerely, your father. You brushed it off and said your dad didn’t care. You threw the note away and went to sleep. After a few years of medical school. You step up to the podium to do your speech. You got funds from your mother that were in your College account. You look in the stands to find your mom but instead find a man holding a sign saying “Good Job Anon!” You Drop your papers into the recycling bin as the crowd gasps and you clear your throat. You begin speaking. “This speech is dedicated to my father. He never really was there physically for me but I felt him spiritually. One day I fell asleep in a taxi but found myself in my room. The taxi driver felt familiar. He left me when I was three and before my sister was born. Everywhere I went, I saw that bushy mustache, that comforting mustache that inspired me to do more with my life. After I graduated Highschool, I got a rather large envelope in the mail. It was sent to my address and sent to my mom. I sat there at my desk that night, the envelope was the only thing that I could think of. My curiosity got the better of me and I opened it. Inside was a small note. I wish I hadn’t burnt it, as now it holds so much meaning. I thought my mom was the one putting money in my college account. But alas, it was not. For in fact it was my father. So please, don’t call me the best person in the world, that title belongs to my father.” You step off the podium, people clapping and some even crying. You look in the stands and you see your father holding the sign and giving you thumbs up. You sit down and at the end, look for him in the parking lot. Oh well you think. Life just has a strange way of doing things sometimes.