My most favorite place was always my father’s house. My mom and dad got a divorce when I was three years old, so on the weekends my dad would always pick me up. When I say my dad’s house was my favorite, I don’t just mean because it was fun there, but it was beautiful where he lived.
My father was a country boy at heart, no doubt’s about that. My dad built the dream house he always wanted. He had a red house with white shutters that was modeled like a barn, and a miniature real barn that looked exactly like his house for his horses. The smell of fresh painted walls and new hard wood floors scented the air when I walked in the house. Mountaintops overlapped one another behind his house creating scenery that looked painted. My dad was everything he could be. He was a builder, a bull rider, a barrel racer, and he also raised a lot of animals on his land.
When it was time to cook dinner my dad and I would pick corn and green beans from his garden. I loved peeling the corn and hearing the loud snap of the beans. My dad would always grill outside under the big willow tree to hide from the sun that would create even more of a “farmers tan” on his arm’s. The smell of the barbeque was so strong that it would make its way into his house, making the anticipation for food even stronger. My dad would always say “are you ready for our father daughter date”, when he got done cooking. We would sit on his wrap around porch and watch the sun set behind the mountaintops.
Afterwards, my dad would play his guitar. Filling my ears with his soft country voice, it made my heart feel warm. My eyes would fill up with tears when he would sing the song that was my mom’s favorite, because he still missed her. In the mornings my dad would wake me by saying “Good morning sunshine”. When he was getting dressed to start his day he sprayed himself with cologne that never wore off, and he would put on his cowboy boots and always cleaned them with boot shiner that smelt like a brand new leather couch, then he would finish his wardrobe off with a cowboy hat.
His pride and joy was his big green tractor he could spend hours upon hours outside hauling hay, brush hogging, or digging up dirt to build his next dream. When my dad would take me back to my moms I couldn’t wait to go back to his house to do it all over again, I would