It’s really awful when you’re so swamped that you don’t have time even to write down the things you want to remember for always. But it’s really nice when everything that happens is so freaking wonderful that you feel like you need to hold on to it forever.
It’s really nice when you wake up at six in the morning and smile and think how you have to hurry because soon you’ll be in the truck on your way to the strawberry patch with your best friends. You don’t have time for breakfast but that’s okay because you’re so fueled by passion for what you do that you don’t seem to need food anymore, except strawberies and peas. It’s really nice when your family all gets together to put on a party for you and your sister, and when you’re rushed and you don’t have time to get everything ready you come back and there’s a bunch of guys setting up tables and chairs and pounding nails and suddenly it all falls together and pretty much all that’s left for you to do is stand back and watch. People are great like that. They do things for you. And I don’t know any finer than the ones I’m fortunate enough to call friends.
It was friday night but we partied into saturday. When the bonfire at last died down I was way too exhausted and way too overflowing with all kinds of feelings, all of them positive, that I went to sleep without writing a word in my journal. But I’ll tell you a little bit about the party because I said I would – pretty much it was all I could have asked for. My friends came. We ate strawberries, even though we’d (I’d) been eating them straight all day. All the little kids wanted to ride in the gator, so I took them around the field. We danced in the grass, and then Somebody who shall not be named got a game of frisbee (AHEM AHEM) started on the lawn in front of the donkey pen, right by Rt. 60. (This is only a great idea if you have lots of tall boys who can catch the frisbee before it flies into the road, or are macho enough to run out there between cars and get it when it does.) I figured, what the heck, but I don’t have to play frisbee at my own party. Come to find out it’s much more enjoyable to sit back and watch all the boys dive for it than it is to walk back and forth across the field when your team loses every time. Feobe and I sat on Daddy’s tailgate and blew bubbles into each other’s eyes while Tim slammed into the donkey fence, Josiah rammed into people as usual, and New Guy completely creamed Daniel, which not many people have been able to do. It was a good time.
Then it got dark and we played ghost in the graveyard and ran up and down the ramps in the barn and knocked ourselves out and then someone knocked over the hay fort and we roasted marshmallows.
Joy gave me sparklers; I never had sparklers before.
This evening it’s storming, but we’re still getting together at the barn to celebrate for Father’s Day. This morning in church people took turns and stood up and said things about their dads. Some told stories. I have lots of stories I could tell about my dad. About driving to the casino to see Kevin Costner in concert and going to market when it’s still dark and finding my little Ranger and paying 200 down for it after talking to the guy ten minutes. But it’s stopped raining now and I gotta go and if I start in on something it’ll get sappy fast, which no dad ever wants, right? I love you Daddy. Thanks for taking me to that Kevin Costner concert.
Brad Paisley – We Danced