Cowgirl
Oxford defines cowgirl as "a woman who herds and tends cattle, performing much of her work on horseback".
Codi Dalton and Chayni Anderson would agree to this definition, but will argue that it is missing a few pieces to it.
Cowgirls aren't...
I waited in my pew for everyone to clear out out of their's. I hated being crowded by other people, unless it was at a concert of course. I can't really explain why, but I just hate when people are closer than what they should be. Of course my brothers left before everyone else did, they hated sitting for that long. And my mom and dad waited for me because they understood my reasoning.
As we walked out of the church, the bright sun hurt my eyes from being in the dim lighting in the church. I saw that lots of people were still talking out in the lawn, typical. "Where did the boys go?" I asked my parents as I walked in the middle of them.
"To The Mill." My mom said and I nodded. The Mill was a local trucker restaurant that we often went to after church.
"The three stooges left before we could show them the surprise." My dad said earning a snicker from me and a glare from my mom.
But then I furrowed my eyebrows at them, "Surprise?" I ask them, looking at both of them. They smirk at each other and then they booth look ahead.
In curiosity I turned my head to look forward and my lips pulled into a great big smile after I saw my grandpa standing in front of us. He was already giving me a crooked smile, "Grandpa!" I yelled and then I ran over to him and gave him a gigantic bear hug.
"Hey shorty." His deep drawl spoke out making me hug him tighter at his old nickname for me. My grandpa and I are very close, ever since I was a little girl. This man is my biggest role model. Everything I know in life is from him.
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This is the first time I've seen him since my grandma died, which was eight months ago. Her death was sudden and unexpected, as she died in her sleep next to grandpa. I have never seen my grandpa so lost after her passing. He always knows what to do, what to say, but when he felt her cold pulse, he was at a loss. Grandma was grandpa's everything, they were married for 60+ years!
I knew going to her funeral was the hardest thing he would ever have to do in his life. He couldn't stop staring at her casket and an old picture of them. I don't think he even blinked the whole time.
We were all concerned for him as we didn't think he would be stable enough to live on his own. Of course he objected to having my mother live with him because of his stubbornness. I mean, he is the typical stereotype of a cowboy: hardworking, independent, tougher than nails, headstrong, determined, and softer than a summer night.
"I missed you!" I say as I pull away from our hug and I take a step back from him to look him over. He looked pretty good, but I think he could eat a few more hamburgers.
He looked at me with a smirk, making his famous mustache pull up, "You know I think Texas is the greatest state in America," He says to make making me smile, "But Wyoming is giving it a run for its money. Wanna know why?" He leans forward making me smile even more, "You're not in Texas."
"You and your Texas." I laugh at him and then we start walking with each other.
"I just don't understand why people don't like Texas. It's full of walking beef, republicans, oil, barley, and everyone knows who John Wayne is." If you couldn't tell, my grandpa is the traditional type. He hates democrats, Hilary Clinton, vegans, and 'snowflakes'.
