I was 6 years old and my dad threw his arms in the air, yelling (what should have been singing) "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by George Strait, while in the middle of the bathing suit isle in Wal-mart. How I remember this, I could not tell you. But, that song has such an important place in my heart and brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it. It doesn't have somber lyrics and isn't about a love story; it's just a memory that really hits home. He used to sing it to me all the time (mostly just to embarrass me in public places). He was an incredible man who danced to the beat of his own drum. As an only child you can assume that I was a daddy's girl and couldn't get enough of his attention. Although I was his little girl, we wrestled as if I were a boy fighting for the t.v remote. I used to go to school with bruises on my arms from our wrestling matches and basketball games. Teachers and friends would ask me what happened, and as if it were normal
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