Dad
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The Dictatorship
“It’s like a dictatorship,” he once said. Years later, we laughed about it—together. Full circle.
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The Ghost Did It
The ladder fell. No one confessed. “The ghost did it,” they said, without missing a beat.
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The One Time He Cheated
He cheated once. Faced the F. Owned it. Recovered with work—and without shame from us.
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The Break Between Classes
Between karate classes, we sit in the car. Snack, talk, watch—just time. Just presence.
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The Smile at 3AM
Her eyes closed, body soft. Just before sleep took her completely—she smiled. And I saw it.
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The Car Ride After the Game
He asked me to talk so he wouldn’t fall asleep. I did—until he did.
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The Side Hug
She gave me a side hug. Not warm. Not long. But real. And it counted.
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Missing His Graduation
He graduated without us there. I’ve carried that ache. It still shapes how I show up.
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He Still Reaches for My Hand Sometimes
He grabbed my hand without thinking. Just for a moment. I stayed still and held on.
Dad
I’m a dad who’s still figuring it out. Not all at once, and not always well — but I try to show up. That’s the thread running through most of what I write here.