His hands were freckled and stocky and covered in cuts from fixing things.
I see people with his hands and I want to tell them..."you have my daddy's hands."
Three years and we still say, "put that in grandaddy's garage."
I still ask, "can I borrow daddy's truck?"
I tell people,"my parents live next door."
I miss you daddy.
love, your teresa jean
*he used to sing this song to my mom*