In Daddy's Shadow

I'm a Daddy's girl.  As a young girl, I loved spending time outdoors with my father as he worked. I was so proud when he began to trust me to run to the house or the shed to get things for him.  Butter bean seeds?  Yep, I knew just where they were. I'd run to the cabinet in the garage for them. The oil can for the tiller? I'd run to the shed to get the can. A hoe, rake, the old tea kettle full of water? Off I'd go and a dead run.

 

When he didn't need me or it wasn't safe for me to be around, I had a small space in the shed.  The shed was really a small pole barn with a smoke house, tool storage room, central hall for large equipment, a brooder house, hen house and feed storage area.  The tool storage room was an open bay with hoes, rakes, shovels and all sorts of long handled tools affixed to the walls with bent nails for hooks. The rest of the space was magically turned into a little girl's play house by a few additions. There was my sister's old wagon full of sand. There was a child sized wood table and a couple of little chairs. There was a little cedar doll bed. A couple of shelves held an imaginary household's necessities; dishes, tiny muffin pans, old bowls, etc. After my parents remodeled the house, an old tin medicine cabinet with a mirrored front was hung on one wall. I spent many hours in that little room making damp sand pies and muffins to serve to imaginary guests. One summer a male cardinal discovered the mirrored cabinet. The poor bird was sure he had a new, incredibly persistent rival.  He would fling himself at his own reflection for hours. I finally had to keep the mirror covered with a cloth so Mr. Redbird would go back to his normal business.

 

I knew I'd grown up when Dad let me use the riding lawn mower.  Mowing our yard was a very long day's job for one person. I remember that first summer of trying to use the lawn mower. Our mower didn't have the safety switch in the seat mowers have now. That was a good thing since I might have weighed 70 pounds at the time. If I sat on the seat, I couldn't reach the pedals.  I had to stand up to stop or make any adjustments.  At first Dad would back the mower out of the shed for me before sending me off to one of the more open areas of the yard to mow. 

 

One day Dad had to work late. The yard needed mowing badly and it was supposed to rain before he'd be free. I hadn't been mowing long and certainly had never attempted it without him nearby. I'm sure Mom had some serious doubts about me mowing alone but it really needed to get done. We wanted to do something nice for Dad as well. Mom helped me push the mower out of the shed. After some fiddling, we figured out how to start the mower.  Then I hopped on to get started. I'd only moved a few feet when, BAM, I had my first auto accident. We didn't back the mower up far enough for me to get it turned.  I ran into the side of the shed.  I'm sure that did wonders for my mom's confidence.  I got part of the yard mowed that afternoon but explaining the dent on the front of the mower to my dad was painful. He didn't get upset.  I was so thankful.

I've thought about those days a lot over the past few weeks when I was borrowing Daddy's walker. I'd remember watching his hands as he showed me how to plant different seeds. He showed me how to use the grease gun on the lawn mower and tiller. He taught me how to use a hoe to thin seedlings in the garden. I remember his hands giving me a gourd of cold water fresh from the well while we took a break. I remember sitting on the ice cream churn as he cranked it to make a treat for the family. 

These past couple of days, I've been working to learn to make a new recipe that starts with meringue.  My dad had the best talent for whipping meringue. He had an old meringue whip that looked like a big spoon with chicken wire for the bowl. Oh, my goodness, he made it look so easy.  

 

So many things I do remind me of my dad and the things he taught me. I hope I can continue to mirror my Dad and the things he taught. I hope I can be a mirror of his love, loyalty, patience, and steadfastness. I'll be privileged if I can remain in his shadow.