Growing up wasn't always princesses and ponies. I didn't have sleepovers and went to fancy summer camps. 50% percent of my memories growing up was my father and I going to Home Depot. We'd spend hours and hours picking up drywall, nails, caulk, plumbing tape, 2x4's, etc, etc, etc. I loved it growing up, the smell of lumber, the pretty chandeliers in the lighting section, and the beautiful kitchen and bathroom displays.
Growing up, my family and I didn't live in the best places, we'd move from one place to another, but it was never down. My father always made sure we went up, up, up. The man would always fix the apartments we'd live in to make it seem like home sweet home. He truly did. In fact, this one time the owner of the apartment we lived in once wanted to switch places with us because he loved what my dad had done with the place.
Growing up, I was always his little assistant. I could be handing him a screwdriver, holding in place a 2x4, or carrying the nail box as he nailed down the drywall he was holding in place with his head. The best conversations I ever had with my dad was me sitting on a upside down bucket and watching him hammer away at the wall, fixing our plumbing, or changing a light.
Growing up, I saw my dad as the best handyman I've ever seen. This man is so talented in his profession that he never ceases to amaze me. I'm so proud of him.
Earlier today, my dad had come to help us with a little bit of some construction we are doing. He left and as I sat down on an insulation roll, and I looked up, I realized I was home.
