My daddy gardens in the spring and summer.
In the winter, he builds planes.
This winter he is making the largest and most complex plane ever.
It is a model of the B-24 Liberator from World War II.
It has hundreds of tiny pieces
that must be precisely cut with an Exacto knife from balsa wood and glued into place.
He says that this is his last one. I hope this is not true.
If my eighty-six-year-old daddy can perform miracles with his crooked hands,
what excuse could I possibly use to not do amazing things myself?
I am his FLOWER.