Working with Dad

My alarm goes off at four in the morning and I literally roll out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I throw on work clothes, an old t-shirt and jeans that have been washed way past their limit. Then it's down the stairs to the kitchen, where I throw the kettle on the stove to make a cup of coffee for the long ride ahead. I slump into a chair at the bare kitchen table. It won't be inhabited again for many hours. I plop my head on my arms, using them as a makeshift pillow while I impatiently wait for the whistle of the kettle. When it finally shrills, I get up and make my thermos of coffee.
This done, Ryan, a friend of my dad's and mine, comes down the driveway right on time. Ryan is my partner for the day and the summer. …