Wednesday, March 23, 2011

workers



I love this picture of my dad and me. He was coming home from work and I was excited to see him. I bet he never thought thirty years from when this picture was taken I would be working like him, covered in paint everyday. (I don't know why all of this is underlined, I can't figure out how to fix it.) I love working outside with my hands. I love that everyday I'm somewhere different. I love that at the beginning of my work day I get to look at an unfinished piece of iron and know that in a few hours it will be transformed. My work makes me happy.

My dad used to sing this to me when he got home from work when I was a little girl.




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