K to the C

I used to be Daddy's girl.

Hunting for morel mushrooms. Fishing in the Nemaha River. Driving the golf cart as he played nine holes. Watching a football game, beer in his hand, root beer in mine. Washing his truck in the driveway as he followed, rewashing everything I touched.

Thanks Dad, even though I'm not a little girl anymore, I always kind of will be.

Thanks for teaching me how to remove a tick, that I should be extra careful when walking through nettles, how to worm a hook, that hitting the sidewalk with the weed-whacker ruins the blade. Thanks for letting me watch Highlander and wrestling, get dirty, ride my bike down grassy hills before I knew how to stop. And even though you hide money around the house and watch paranormal investigation shows and love Huey Lewis and the News, I still think you're pretty cool.