My Father’s Arms
As a small boy I admired my father’s muscular arms. He was a carpenter who spent his days swinging a hammer and lifting lumber. The hard work gave him bulging muscles that he also used to help us build tree forts and remodel our home.
One day my younger brother and I challenged our dad to a wrestling match. We knew we couldn’t beat him, but wanted to have fun trying. Instead of getting down on the floor, he simply smiled at us as he rolled up his sleeves exposing his biceps. Then he held both his arms straight out from his side. He was challenging us to knock him down.
Like bolts of lightning we darted at him, …