Yay! My first Link up about my first love! How fitting!
This is going to be sickeningly sweet. The first love I can remember having isn't a romantic love. I dug really deep, but honestly every guy I've ever been even remotely serious with I've told I loved him and he was my first love. And in a way they were all my first love in a different kind of way. But the love I want to tell you about has nothing to do with romance. It has nothing to do with kissing and holding hands. Okay, well it kind of does, but its different with this man than it is with my former boyfriends, than it is with my husband. My first love's name is Joseph Davis, but he goes by Joe. I've known him my entire life. He's my grandpa. He's a strapping man, broad shouldered and standing tall at just over six feet. He wears a size 12 boot I believe, and they were hard for my tiny feet to clunk around in. He's not related to me by blood, but he is mine and I am his. When we first met, it was my first day in this big place. My parents elected for my gender to be a surprise, but with my mom's pregnancy, they were pretty sure I was a boy. They got all gender neutral things. Lo and behold, I was born, all girl, and mother dearest was upset that she didn't have a pretty pink dress to take her little girl home in. That was the first time he rescued his princess. He went right down to Walmart and picked out a beautiful pink frilly dress set, complete with bloomers, bow, and ruffled socks. I wish someone would have recorded that big manly man standing in front of the baby girl clothes trying to pick me out something fitting for a princess. My little girl came home from the hospital in that same dress. My parents wanted to call me Dani, or Ray. He wouldn't have it, he said I was a girl, and I would be called a girls name. He was scared to hold me. He said his hands were to big and clumsy, too rough from work, he'd drop me or he'd hurt me. He was sitting in his chair one day and my mom walked by and said "here, here hold this," and dropped me in his arms. The rest was history. He took me fishin'. He took me to the Forestry commission. I got to ride the float in the parade with him one year, when he was my own personal Smokey Bear. I stuck my foot to the three wheeler tire while we were riding one day, and he ran me all the way to the house to go to the hospital. He took me camping. He showed me how to pick blackberries. I spent my days swimming in the backyard under his watchful eye. He taught me how to drive. Every time he started out the back door, I was his shadow. He sometimes speaks in an old southern dialect that I don't understand. Once when he asked me to come "hope him" with something, I was just confused about who hope was. Whats so special about this man isn't his imposing figure. It isn't the sheer genius behind him knowing how to do everything (literally, the man does math problems and invents tools for fun.) I can't put my finger on whats so special about him, but I'm not the only one who sees it. He spent the better part of his life working hard. Damn hard. I only think I've heard him speak of two jobs after his army days. A company called Harris And Ellis that closed, and the Forestry commission. Very few people only work two jobs in their life. I'm just shy of 24 and had almost ten. He drew up plans for the beautiful home he and my grandma live in. They worked for two years after work and on weekends, and they built the house from the ground up. My first love has never let me down. He's made me cry on occasion, not from hurting me, but from teaching me one of numerous life lessons, or by saving me. My first love walked me down the aisle, to the man I fell in love with. He is the only man I've ever come across that has always been there when I needed him. He's never done me wrong. He taught me that I'm beautiful, and I'm smart. He taught me to demand respect from everyone I meet, but also to humble myself, and give respect, even when others don't deserve it. He still saves me, I'm ashamed to say I've spent my entire life without regards to what mess I might be making, because he was always there to clean it up. This is a man who doesn't tell you he loves you. I've heard it all of twice in my life. He shows you. Hes the rare gem that still believes in the good in people, until they prove him wrong. He's strong, even in his seventies. He's genuinely nice to everyone he meets. He's goofy in a serious sort of way. When its been a while since he's seen me, he tickles me under the ear and says "I ain't picked on you in a while!" I was never scared of him. He was always gentle with me. He's never yelled at me. But disappointing him always broke my heart clean in two. My first love taught me what a real man looks like. When my father let me down time after time, he was there. Strong and silent, like a rock. Every woman deserves a man like that in her life, some of us get lucky and find him on day one. I pray that during his remaining years on this Earth, I can soak up a small part of the wisdom and knowledge he is so filled with.
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