What A Father Knows
I’ve never been a father. Not sure I ever will. But I’ve been a son. And I know what sons know. Sons know that their fathers are worth watching. More than TV shows. More than players on a field. More than anyone or anything. Because that’s how sons learn.
Sons eat and sleep and breathe and live as their fathers show. And when they eventually outgrow this mystical man and become their own, they still carry the parts leftover when fathers were The Show.
Fathers show so that sons may know what’s right and wrong and how to get along when they’re no longer visible. And when they look back at photos from around the bends they’ve long since left behind, they see a boy and a man. And the boy is a foreigner while the man looks familiar, not so dissimilar to the face they greet in every mirror. And it’s only then that sons realise that all their fathers ever really knew was that, above all else and despite the inner doubts, they had to show.