“Faster dad, faster.” I squeal. I am sitting shotgun in his Jeep as he bamboozled a ton of snow into a mini mountain. When his plow and the snow he is pushing connect with the mountain of snow from the previous winter storm; we lunge forward with such force my little face is dangerously close… Continue reading Snow Plowing, Continued…
Category: Art’s Daughter
Simply put, a poignant set of very short stories reflecting back on times with my dad. It goes without saying….life always goes full circle. I cherished my dad as a young girl, resented him as a young adult and now find myself laughing to myself when I see him pop through in my day to day actions. After all, I am Art’s daughter.
Wake Up Service
I can still smell the inside of my dad’s lunchbox to this day. Old bread, musty cheese and damp paper napkin would float up to my nose every time I opened the lid. I can conjure that smell up any time I want. It was a plastic black lunchbox with two latches. There was a… Continue reading Wake Up Service
Black Lunchbox
I can still smell the inside of my dad’s lunchbox to this day. Old bread, musty cheese and damp paper napkin would float up to my nose every time I opened the lid. I can conjure that smell up any time I want. It was a plastic black lunchbox with two latches. There was a… Continue reading Black Lunchbox
Chris Writes 