Fire Engine Red

Dedicated to my father and his encouragement, love, and friendship.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked as I walked bare foot through the yard. It was a warm day and my dad was knelt down beside the old tractor in our backyard. He reached down and grabbed his tools to begin painting the tractor.
"Let me try that," I said as I knelt down beside him to mock his position. He had worked on the tractor for weeks preparing to paint it. He got the rusty tractor from a friend and worked night after night to make this old tractor look new again.
There were many nights I can remember getting ready for bed and running outside with my wet hair swinging as I ran. I would run out and see Dad sanding under the light from a small lantern that he sat at the top of the tractor. I would say goodnight and do the same the next night. He spent lots of time in that yard preparing to paint.
Everyone has a memory from their childhood that they cherish. This is mine. While other little girls my age were inside playing with barbies,having tea parties, or playing dress up in their mother's heels and lipstick. You could find me barefoot in the yard next to my daddy in shorts and a t shirt watching him work. He worked on tons of things. I used to frequently say,"My daddy can do anything!" That day my short knotted hair was pushed back and my bold freckles were gleaming due to the afternoon sun.
"Please dad," I urged on. I never thought my dad would let me try such a challenging task at eight years old. However, my father looked over at me and handed me the shiny silver paint can and cord. He had worked countless nights to get this tractor ready to paint, yet he handed over the tool like I was a pro. He gave no directions, just continued to sit next to me and watch.
As I pressed down the cool metal button the paint sprayed. The color was red --fire engine red. As I painted my father repeated," Don't stop. Keep your hand moving slowly. Whatever you do keep painting. Your doing great, keep moving. Don't be nervous." I felt like I could do anything in the world. I was in control. He believed in me. Now ten years later, the relationship between my father and I has continued to grow. I often refer back to that day and replay my father's words.
When days are too long and times get real tough, I remember. "Keep going. Your doing great, whatever you do keep moving." The words remind me to keep going and soon my storm will pass. My father has always been and always will be my encouragement and strength-my rock. I'll never forget the day I painted- fire engine red.