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A First trip

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The car slowly began to pull into the parking lot. With a slight pull, the father put his minivan to a stop in a neat little parking space near the front. Itching his mustache, he exited the car, taking the young boy with him. Timmy looked just like his father (minus mustache, of course), and was just happy to be there. But to Timmy’s father, this moment meant more than anything else in the world. He still remembered his first time, entering the sliding doors while his father held his young little hand. He still remembered the feeling of excitement as he realized the world he had become a part of, passing the large walls of lumber and random appliances and realizing he was in the haven of the handyman. It was a feeling he couldn't wait to share with his son. The father grabbed his own cart of orange, placed his son in the little cart seat in the front, and began the moment of triumph. The doors slid open slowly, and the smell of middle aged men who liked to spend time building things overwhelmed all other emotions. To the father’s joy, Timmy’s face grew into an infectious smile. A single tear fell from the father’s eye and fell to the floor below. Timmy had joined the Dad club. With his mustache heaving with emotion, he whispered softly to Timmy,”Welcome to Home Depot






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