Daddy's Girl

The sounds of country music and Alabama drifts into my subconscious delivering nostalgia that only some " Mountain Music" can. The words drift across the tip of my tongue with a Southern accent and a tapping foot. The sound of my daddy's voice as he strums the guitar, singing just like Alabama fills my mind with joy and of days gone by. I'm fairly certain, my dad sounds better than Alabama, can play a mean acoustic and electric guitar and knows every lyric to every country song that ever existed. I'm reminded of sitting on the side of the dirty tractor, the radio cranked up, riding the fields next to my dad singing country music. The smell of the freshly shucked corn, the sounds of the corn rustling in the wagon, the powder of it blowing on the wind. Reminded of times, working on on our farm, watching my dad deliver baby pigs and thinking, he can do anything. Always working, always watching, the memories of my dad. Sitting at grandpas pond,under the pine trees, talking up a storm and my dad reminding me over and over again that talking scares the fish away.. I still wonder if that's true or I just talked to much. Memories of soggy pancakes, chili with ketchup, ham and cheese sandwiches, ritz crackers with peanut butter and the stench of burnt popcorn as the house smelled with smoke and my mom complained about the smell. I remember nests in the floor with he and my sister, until we fell asleep. My daddy is kind, giving, hard working, artistic, an artist, lover of fast cars and always someone that has loved his girls with all that he is. He writes me letters and love notes when I stay at his house, I still have most of them. He draws the best stick figures ever, writes songs and poetry. When I was a little girl, he waited at the bus stop so we didn't have to be in the cold in his truck, sometimes he would even let us go into town to get donuts before school, he curled my hair once(and burnt my forehead). I also hold the honor of being one of the few that made him angry enough to see he did have a temper. Just tell him to shut up as a teenager and slam the door and you might get your bathroom door taken off the hinges or tell your mom to shut up and he might pick you up by your shirt and tell you never to speak to her that way again. He was quiet, kind but when he was mad(only two times that I remember), I was terrified. I've often thought of all that he has given to me, years and years of work, day after day, hour after hour, to ensure my sister and I were taken care of. My parents both worked incredibly hard. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be where I am now. All that I am, is because of them. All that I've been able to see in the world was because of them. Whether it was the incredible work ethic growing up on a farm and watching my parents gave me or its the drive to always give my best. They did that. I was raised to represent my name and family with respect and dignity and know that I am a Burkhart.. that's never changed, when I go home and people ask who I am, I am so incredibly proud to be a part of the family I am and say I'm a Burkhart. I'm proud to be my daddy's daughter and my mom's girl. I'm proud to belong to them. Besides God, family is it for me. They are my heart, my soul, my unwavering unconditional love for all that has been, all that is and all that will be. Family. I know that if I needed anything, someone would help me. I didn't realize how rare this was until I was much older and how blessed I am to have people like my mom and dad to love me. At 42, I still yearn for moments with my family, I love talking to my dad and could sit next to him fishing for hours, just basking in the fact that I am so blessed to still have him in my life. I remember. I remember Grandpa dying when he was around my dad's age and that knowledge terrifies me to the very pit of my core. I love the conversations with my dad, he can talk about anything and I will listen because all I want to do is have him and my mom in my life for as long as I can. I love when he texts me and I know it takes an hour for him to do it, or when he calls just to tell me whats going on in my family or when he makes me call him or text him everytime I go visit, when I get home to ensure I am safe. I love listening to his stories of growing up and watching him talk about my grandma and grandpa. He loved my grandma more than anyone.. I will never forget when she died and I thought I had also lost him in the depths of his despair. Only my mom could get him back. A few years ago, on Father's Day we made a bucket list of things he wanted to do when he retired. The first was take ONE day off. I'm pretty sure in the next few month's my daddy is going to get his day and then he's going to start to relax a little and do something for himself. I'm so excited to share the world with him, share commercial flying and trains in Colorado, trips to Italy and summer weekends filled with hours of fishing. I have that bucket list memorized like the back of my hand and I intend on being there for much of it so share in the moments. The moments that have been put on hold for over 45+ years while he worked 7 days a week, dusk to dawn taking care of everyone else. I"m ready for my dad, to learn that now, it's time to love himself and reap the benefits of all that he has worked so incredibly hard for. That is why I do the things I do, that is why I am what I am, because of love for my family.