The Day of the Dad

Grasshoppers sprung from one weed to the other, clinging onto in with their life, I tried catching them all. My dad watched then chuckled to himself as he went back to building his shed. “Dad look! Look!!” I would shout, holding onto the big locust I had caught. “Isn’t it huge?! My dad always grinned ear to ear when I ‘helped’ build things with him. We enjoyed being outside, especially real sunny days when the wind would gently sway the trees, those were the best days to be outside. He would take food and water out to the goats as I sat in a little corner, and read to them. My favorite memory is when I’d steal his coat and go outside on the windier days. He would search, and search, and then search some more for the coat he had ‘misplaced’. Finally, I would come in with flowers, rocks, or anything else I could get my hands on. My dad would just start laughing, and tell me that my coat looked a bit too big. So I would put whatever I collected in his pockets for later findings. Where else would I put them? Later my dad would wash his coat, but he didn’t check his pockets, next thing we know we found everything I had put in his coat. “Bloody hell woman,” he shouted, but he never stayed mad at me. He did however, learn to always check our pockets just in case I put another grasshopper in his jacket.

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