When I was messing with your hair that day, right after this picture was taken, my heart took a left when I figured it would have taken a right.
To the right would have been throwing you on the sofa and tickling you until you fart.
To the left was that place I accidentally stumble into every few months.
That place that looks, tastes, smells, and feels funny.
The last few strokes of your hair I imagined your father’s hair.
It must feel similar to this.
It must be light and wispy.
I wonder, right now, if his fingers are running through his hair.
But he’s probably wearing a hat.
I wonder if his hands smell like the fish that he has been catching all day.
I hope they do, or his day would have sucked.
I wonder if they are more calloused than they were a year ago.
I’m sure those nets are a pain.
I wonder if when he looks at them…he wonders about yours.
And so I walked outside, looked up to the sky, and screamed…”He’s OK!!!!”
When I walked back into the house I had this romantic thought that maybe…
Right before I looked up…
You got off your fishing boat…
? ??? ???!
(Is my son OK?!)
Then I looked at the clock and realized it was 2 am in Seoul.
I got sad for a second…that my dream was a joke…
Until I realized…
He was probably dreaming of you.
Laying on his wispy hair.
I’m doing the best I can sir…