There were grand-kids and cake involved. It was pretty great.
I talked to my mom about family members and long-unseen friends. We talked about canning vegetables and priceless recipes.
Then I talked to my dad.
We disagree on politics: I’m a liberal, he thinks I’m the devil
We disagree on religion: He’s a very strict Southern Baptist, I’m CLEARLY a heathen with my beliefs
We disagree on movies: He doesn’t like “Lord of the Rings”, I’m having him committed
We agree to NOT agree on a lot of things.
But, this smell of sawdust and sweat is part of my childhood with memories of my dad giving me a block of wood to work on while he made something fascinating.
But, I remember long bike rides with my dad. taking in the moments of just being together.
But, I remember my dad sitting up with me at night when I was little (like 3), getting used to the time change from Korea to Indiana, snuggling into him and feeling safe where there was little that felt secure.
I may not always agree my father, but I’ll always be a Daddy’s Girl.