Trucking

Written by

Anna Larson

When I was little, and anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I proudly declared, “I want to be a truck driver.” The adults would laugh at me. Not in a cruel way, but in a way that said, “What 6-year-old girl dreams about long-haul trucking?” Well, this one did.

They just didn’t see what I saw—a way to go far past beyond the single road that ran through a small rural Eastern Oregon town, a town that didn’t even have a stoplight, and discover what else was out there, in the real world. 

Every day during the spring, summer, and fall, I saw the open-bed trucks full of ripe, sweet watermelon, corn, beets, onions, or potatoes chug down Main Street. My sister and I would stand in awe at the enormous trucks laden with food and wave vigorously at the drivers who looked down from their windows, acknowledging our excitement with a honk-honk from their horns. 

They came and went with each harvest season, leaving the big brown fields devoid of fruits and vegetables. Their heavy wheels rolled slowly through town, leaving only dust in their wake. 

I’d watch until they disappeared, then race to my collection of National Geographic magazines full of pictures and stories of exotic places, interesting cultures, and natural wonders. 

I just knew that those truck drivers were seeing all of it from the cabs of their 18-wheelers. 

That’s the thing about asking a child what they want to be when they grow up. Adults hear a job title, but they miss the longing underneath. At 6, “truck driver” was the closest thing I had to the life I imagined; it was an answer that I would call a built dream. 

Built dreams are useful and important to make life work. They tell you what is safe and practical. But when you search just under the surface, you’ll often find soul dreams. Soul dreams are wilder and quieter and whisper, 

“Don’t forget about me.” 

A soul dream may sound like “truck driver” to a little six-year-old girl wants something deeply, but doesn’t know how to get to it.

What did I want when I “grew up?” 

I wanted movement.

I wanted a life of adventure.

I wanted to experience people, cultures that were different from what I knew.

I wanted to go far beyond that one dusty road through town.

I never did become a truck driver. Instead, I became a military spouse. 

While it offered the travel and adventure I longed for, it came with its own complexity. There was joy and loss. Constant upheaval alongside the deepest of friendships. Forced rebuilding and finding myself. Again and again and again. My soul dream found its path, a path with a mix of blind curves and breath-taking views.

Maybe that’s why Michelle Obama’s words in her book, Becoming, hit me right between the eyes, “Now I think it’s one of the most useless questions an adult can ask a child–What do you want to be when you grow up? As if growing up is finite. As if at some point you become something and that’s the end.”

I did not become what I dreamt about at age six. Instead, I became a mother. Writer. Business owner. Advocate. Traveler. And yes, a military spouse. A Beginner, over and over again. 

Even now, I am still “becoming” something different. 

Every. Single. Day.

So the next time you hear a child whisper about being a truck driver, remember that it is rarely about the job title. It is almost always about the open road. 

_{^{Anna Larson is a writer, storyteller, and Gallup-Certified CliftonStrengths Coach who helps people find meaning, direction, and purpose through their stories. As the founder of MilSpouse Transition and owner of NomadAbout, LLC, she combines strengths-based coaching, marketing strategy, and compelling writing to support military spouses, veterans, entrepreneurs, and small business owners. Her work has been featured in Military Times, Stars and Stripes, Motherly, and other national publications. Whether she is writing about transition, identity, leadership, or everyday life, Anna believes stories have the power to connect people and create change.}}

Are you an active duty or veteran milspouse interested in being a guest writer for VSP? Get in touch with your details and topic interests on our contact page!