When I was a little girl, I was a daddy's girl.
After having 2 boys, I was a breath of fresh, pink air. I think we bonded instantly.
One of my favorite things to do with my dad was to go get milk with him.

We lived in a rural town and my father owned the local sawmill. One of the benefits was we traded product for all kinds of things- including milk. A local farmer, my bus driver and my dad's old bus driver, had cows and my dad traded sawdust for cows milk. Fresh, unpasteurized, milk.

Most often we'd head out after dinner to go get milk. I'd hop in the front seat of my dad's green pick-up truck, stand next to him on the seat, put my arm around his neck and talk steady. It's a running joke between us that it wasn't all those years in a sawmill that made him hard of hearing, it was in deed all that talking I did directly into his ear.

I can still see the trip to the farm. The high ridge we drove along, the field where the deer could be seen eating, the old Quaker meeting house and the barn.

The barn. I can still smell it. We'd usually enter after dark and while my dad loaded up the glass milk jugs into our milk carrier, I'd sneak to the other side of the room, open the door and see all the cows. Nestled nicely into the barn, chewing their cud. The smell of the cows was one of my favorite smells, the little babies were my favorite sight and the big bulls made my eyes open wide with awe. I began to fall in love with God's creation on those nights.

When the cows stirred enough to my satisfaction, I'd hurry back out, usually just in time to help grab the last bottle from the cold water of the old coke chest that held the milk.

We'd load back up in the truck and I'd resume whatever story I had been telling as we drove down the drive, past the old farmhouse onto the road toward home.

It was usually on the way home that the deer would cross the road and we'd have to slow down and I'd beg him to stop until they were out of sight. Many times he'd pull off the road and shine the lights into the woods until their little beady eyes were long gone.

I have the opportunity of still being close to my daddy. This memory is one of many, many that fill my heart and mind. I am excited to also have the opportunity to go back to see my dad this weekend.

Thank you daddy for being my dad. Among all your imperfections and mistakes you are the best! As a little girl growing up you showed me the love of Christ more than anyone else. I love you dad. See you soon!

-Michelle
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