Daddy

Everyone has a Dad, whether you know him or not, whether you like him or not, everyone has one. I am one of the luckiest people in the world because my Daddy has always been there for me. My parents are still married and have been for 18 years. My Dad is amazing, I know that most people would say the same thing though my Dad really is amazing. He's a carpenter, he is given wood and he makes it into something amazing. half of the furniture in my house is something that my dad has made especially for my mom. Like our little side table that has a note written in sharpie under it, and the roll top desk and even the shelves that house most of the books in our house.

I believe that I take after my dad, when it comes to intellectual standings, because my Dad devours books. Like literally two days ago I saw him reading a book about Leonardo Da Vinci's theory on the body. My dad never went to college. He actually graduated early so that he could go around the country, and he did. He hitch hiked to every state, except for Hawaii and Alaska.

My Dad likes to give us lectures at least once a day, on things like taking our cups to the sink or if you see a piece of trash pick it up. If I wanted I could probably recite every one of his lectures verbatim. But my daddy is a character, he is skinny as a rail, very tan, and has hair that almost reaches his butt. Once my brother Gabe had friends over and my dad was sitting on the front porch leaned back on the bench out there and one of Gabe's friends said, "Dude why is there a Cherokee Indian on your front porch?" Gabe just laughed and told him that he was our Dad.

                                                Daddy with Ian and Gabe

But my Dad has always been special to me, because when I was little, every night before I would go to bed daddy would tickle me with his whiskers. And when I was just a baby, toddling around I was a Daddy's girl because the moment that I would hear Daddy's car in the drive way I would run for the door and daddy would pick me up and i would get into this so called "bunch" as my mom would call it (its basically when I would lift my shoulders and duck my head down into my daddy's collar and I would look like a little ball or "bunch".

But my dad has actually saved me from my random acts of stupidity before because one day we were out near my dads garage and there is an old civil war cemetery next to it and I asked my dad to read the tombstones to me because I couldn't read them because of how worn out the words are and so my dad did and after we had gone through them all I was just wandering around the grave stones while my dad watched with a close eye by the gate. Then I skipped over to the biggest tombstone and sat on it, then I heard my dad call, "don't sit on that or its gonna fall on you" so I hopped down and the last thing I knew was that the tombstone was on my legs. But what made this worse was that I was only about 6 or 7 and about 40 or 50 pounds , and this tombstone must have been at least 300 lbs. But before I knew it I heard my dad running to me and he lifted that tombstone right off of me and carried me to the house, I couldn't feel my legs though I was regaining the numbness that must have been through shock. My Dad was so scared he wanted to know if I thought that my legs were seriously hurt, I said they weren't they were just numb and one leg had a huge gash down my thigh. But everything was fine, my Dad has been my hero ever since.

                                        This is a picture of  Gabe, Me and Daddy.