All those moments throughout the days, weeks, months that don’t get marked on calendars with hand-drawn stars or little stickers. Those are the moments that make a life. Not grand gestures, but mundane details that, over time, accumulate until you have a home, instead of a house.

So why can’t I seem to do the same thing with my father? Why can’t I stop missing the dad I never had?

I can be here, in the moment, instead of watching for smoke, ready to run.

This moment, though fleeting, belongs to me too.

a part of me had still ached. Could feel that I was standing outside of things, waiting for the moment I would finally become a part of it.

“But if I’ve learned anything from parenting, it’s that it matters way more that you’re present than that you’re perfect.