This is my Daddy. I know... I'm 43 years old and I still call him Daddy, not something a little more dignified and suited to my age. But I can't help it...he's my Daddy. As I write this, I'm sitting on a bench that he made for me and painstakingly engraved with the Texas A&M logo, even though the instant I enrolled he declared himself a die-hard TU fan (that would be a University of Texas to those of you who were not fortunate enough to attend the right school...lol.)
We took this picture together on Thanksgiving Day this year, because he wore maroon on the day the Aggies played (and beat) the Longhorns. I had to get a picture, so that he couldn't go back and deny wearing it later.
When I came out this morning to drink my coffee on the patio (that he helped us build) out of my favorite A&M coffee mug (that he gave me for Christmas the year I graduated...covered with a Longhorn sticker,) I got the best surprise in the form of a text from Daddy.
"Coffee on the patio? Got another cup?"
"Of course, " I replied, "Come on over!"
We moved back to Temple 9 months ago, to be closer to our families and to allow me to make a career change when I needed something less stressful. I often wished we had been able to find a house closer to my parents, so that when Daddy took his morning two-mile walk, he could come by for coffee. So, this beautiful spring morning, he hopped in his truck after his walk and came by his favorite (and only) daughter's house. We drank coffee, talked, and just enjoyed being together. Did I mention that I love my Daddy?
There are some things about my Daddy that you should know. He can fix anything. And I do mean anything. From broken hearts to broken cars to broken furniture. He has the best hands. Big, strong, callused and surprisingly gentle. He is never wrong. And if he is mistaken, it is only because he was misinformed...of course. And, he has a sarcastic sense of humor. So, now you know where I get it from.
Ever since I joined the Aggie family and he declared himself my enemy in this regard only, a battle has waged between us. When I go over to my parent's house, I often leave a little gift behind for him. Like an A&M pillow case on his pillow, that he doesn't find until he gets ready to go to bed, and then can't sleep because he states that it will surely give him nightmares.
Christmas, however, is the day the war rages with passion. I have filled my parents stockings on Christmas morning for about 20 years. For the last 10 of those, his stocking has only contained items bearing the A&M logo. Aggie M&Ms, Aggie wine, Aggie kleenex, Aggie playing cards...well, you get the picture. His bathroom is now fully decorated in maroon. From soap and lotion to toilet paper. (Which he declared the perfect Aggie gift so that he could use it to wipe his butt.) When he complained that some items should bear a longhorn, I obliged and gave him a stuffed longhorn (with it's horns sawed off, naturally) and some longhorn poop (chocolate covered peanuts.)
And here is where it gets bad. One day I found a beautiful stool to use in my classroom but it needed some work. I took it to the man who can fix anything, who said he would be happy to make it sturdy and stain it for me. When it was ready, he brought it to my classroom and we stood back and admired it. I noticed my Mom had a funny look on her face, but I couldn't really figure out why.
"Do you like it?"he asked.
"Oh, yes! I love it!" I replied.
"Are you sure? Do you like everything about it?" he said.
"Absolutely!" I declared, hugging him tightly.
He smiled a smirky little grin. And I knew I had been had. My eyes searched over the beautifully stained stool... and then I saw it. That sneaky rotten Daddy of mine had painted a longhorn on the leg of my stool. And I had just told him that I liked everything about it. Dang...score one for Daddy.
I have the best Daddy in the world. I wouldn't change one thing about him....well, maybe just the Longhorn thing.