As a little girl, I remember coming home from school and playing until I thought it was time for my daddy to get off work. I would play with my dolls, take my puppy and my three-year-old brother for a walk in my little red wagon, and jump on the trampoling. However, the highight of my day consisted of waiting by the door for my daddy to come home from the woods.
My daddy would pull into the driveway at 6:15 every evening. I would run for him with my arms wide open as the door to his little blue Isuzu cracked. My daddy would look at me smiling, and I was so happy to see him. However, I remember hearing him say, "Don't rub against Daddy's nasty clothes, princess. I'm too dirty." My eyes would flood with tears, and I couldn't understand why my hero could not hold me until after he had taken a shower.
ddy the best dad in the world, he is, in actuality, and extraordinary man. Most men have a hard shell and refuse the cry; however, my daddy is sensitive, loving, and caring. I admire him in many ways: he was always showed me how much he loves me, he takes me to church, he spends quality time wiith me, and he makes me feel special. Considering all the wonderful qualities of my daddy, it was not until later that I realized that his blue-collar labor was not what he had dreamed of at an early age. My daddy graduated from high school and started college shortly afterward, but not far into his freshman year, he began to think that work was more important. So, he quit school and went to work with my papaw in the logging business. He worked in the hot sun five days a week for low wages. I would watch my daddy leave every morning in
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