Eli, a boy of thirteen with a mop of unruly hair, blinked awake, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. He shuffled to the mirror and squinted, noticing the faintest hint of peach fuzz where his smooth skin used to be. His mind drifted to memories of his father, a trucker with a legendary beard, always coming home with thrilling stories of the open road.
Mom, bustling around in her robe, paused mid-step as she saw Eli scratching his jaw. "You look just like your dad lately, especially with that little fuzz on your chin," she teased gently, her eyes warm. Eli grinned, secretly thrilled, and replied with a mock-deep voice, "Gonna need a razor soon, Ma!" They both laughed, but a spark of pride glimmered in Eli's eyes.
Eli wandered in, drawn by the scent of grease and the memory of his father. He ran a hand over the truck's hood, feeling a kinship with the machine and the man who drove it. "One day, I'll drive across states, beard blowing in the wind, just like Dad," he whispered, feeling the fuzz on his chin and imagining it growing thicker with each mile.
Eli[/@ch_1]'s face as he stares at his reflection. The sink is cluttered with a borrowed razor and a can of shaving cream.]
Eli hesitated, hand trembling as he considered shaving for the first time. He remembered his dad’s words, Dad (voice in memory): "A beard is earned, son, mile by mile, day by day." Smiling, Eli left the razor untouched, deciding to let nature—and time—take its course.
Eli sat behind the steering wheel, the truck silent except for his steady breaths. He traced the steering wheel’s grooves, feeling older, stronger, and a bit more like the man he hoped to become. Mom peeked out the window, her silhouette framed in warm light, watching her son with a mix of nostalgia and hope.
Eli[/@ch_1] stands in his bedroom again, gazing at the old trucker cap now perched on his bedpost. The moonlight casts a silver glow over his face, highlighting the new whiskers on his chin.]
Eli smiled at his reflection, feeling the steady growth of both beard and dreams. He whispered to the night, "I'm on my way, Dad," and settled into bed, heart pounding with the promise of highways yet traveled and the man he was becoming.
