"Hey Dad," I asked the tall, dirty blond man sitting beside me. He sat on the wooden docks of the cool green pond that we were fishing out of which was higher up than the low rock I was relaxing on. "Why do my other brothers and sisters not like me?"
He turned around to look at me with a carefree smile on his face, "What do you mean? Micheal likes to hang out with you a lot doesn't he?"
I shifted my seating on the warm sunbathed rock swaying my bare feet in the water. "Yeah but Brittany doesn't like me at all." Suddenly the ripples became more interesting than the conversation. "She thinks I'm a retard."
Dad kept the silly smile on his face and happily replied. "She doesn't hate you; she just finds some of the things you do different that what she's used to." I froze hearing that. My dad saw my discomfort.
I smiled softly watching the sunlight gleam off the fish below. "Thanks Dad."
"Hm? Sure thing though," he paused and his voice had a hint of puzzlement in it, "I have no idea what I did."
The disappointment sunk when I realized he didn't know that he cheered me up. I should have figured as much. This was Dad I was talking to. He never understands other people's emotions nor can he read the atmosphere around him. None the less, he still is able to bring joy in his own personal way.
"Oh!" Dad exclaimed as the string on his pole tightened, "I got one!"
He reeled in the fish quickly with his great strength. "It's a largemouth Bass. Wow it's huge! At least over 20 pounds! Nice one, Dad!"
After taking a picture of Dad with his catch we soon released it back into the pond. A few hours later I noticed that the sun was already high. Dad also took note of the time on his watch. He had an important meeting in Germany in about five hours that he needed to get ready for.
We walked back to the old cabin to get in my truck where I drove Dad to the nearest airport. I don't get to see Dad that often but he always tries to make a point to see me and every single one of my brothers and sisters; all fifty of us.
If you haven't guessed by now my dad is Alfred F. Jones a.k.a. America and I'm his 15th oldest child, Kentucky, but people call me John, and as I drive several miles I ask for you to join me and travel with me.
hey. i know this is pretty short and i realize that i have another story. i probably won't finish it any time soon but i've had this idea to write a serious story about the personifications of the united states after reading something similar on here once though i can't recall who wrote it. sorry!
anyway, please review and thanks for reading!