God Pikin

My grandfather never said "I love you." Not once in 40 years. When he died, I found out he'd been saying it every single day in a way I never noticed. Every morning at 5:45, I'd wake up to the sound of my truck warming up in the driveway. I assumed it was a neighbor's. I never checked. At the funeral, my grandmother handed me a small notebook. "He kept this by the window," she said. "Read it later." I read it that night. Page after page, in his shaky handwriting: *"Mar 3. Started his truck. Scraped the ice. 14 degrees. He has a long drive."* *"Mar 4. Checked his tires. Low on the left rear. Fixed it before he woke."* *"Mar 19. He looked tired yesterday. Filled his tank. Left a coffee on the dash. Hope he doesn't think it's strange."*