I’m not a girly girl.
I was my biological father’s only child. He and my mother divorced when I was 2, and I was raised by my stepfather. But I spent a lot of time with my biological father while growing up, and we became quite close as I grew to adulthood.
He was quite the outdoorsman…hunter, fisherman, etc. He taught me to drive his pickup truck when I was 8. That’s when I could actually reach the gear shift on the column to change gears and my legs were long enough to reach the gas pedal and clutch. He taught me to shoot around the same time, and I could bait a fishing hook long before that. We did a lot of hunting and fishing together through the years. There were many days spent on the lake, just the two of us, from sunrise to sunset, eating bologna sandwiches on gooey white bread with mayonnaise and drinking orange sodas (we are Southerners
), filling the boat up with fish for that much anticipated fish fry the next day. That’s how you really get to know someone.
He passed away 5 years ago, and I do miss him so much. I have all of his guns, bows, etc. I haven’t used them since he’s been gone, might have to get them out soon.
He told me on his deathbed, heavily medicated and out of it, that he always wanted a son. I knew that. Not instead of me, in addition to me. I’m pretty sure.
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