Still his dad

He’s quieter now. Not in anger, just in becoming.

Less available, busy with an internship, becoming a man.

There was a time he ran to me for answers. Now, he listens to the world instead.

I want to believe he’ll come back, not as a boy, but as someone who sees me again.

But I don’t need to know. It's enough that I remain:

a steady shape in his rearview, a soft place that never shut its door.

I built this love for all his seasons, not just the ones that looked like closeness.

And if he never turns around, still.

...

I'm still his dad. And I love him all the way through.