Man of my life.

Image created with words of the author and AI (Midjourney) ©CatyHartung

When I was small, your eyes were full of love. You stood at my side, encouraging me to find my way. You held my hand when migraines tortured me. And when I woke up at night, you were in your armchair comforting me.

You stood behind the window during my swimming competitions, calm and pure support. Once you said if you swim fast, there will be a surprise: And there it was my first dog. When I came home with a bad grade, you said, don’t worry, I believe in you. And when I was crying, you were holding me.

When I started to blossom into a young lady, you convinced me that “a mouthful of bosom” would be enough. That making love deserved a beautiful setting and the right man. That quality, elegance, generosity, sharing, and kindness make all the difference in life. And when I was overexcited, you sat in your armchair and listened.

When I was far away, we were connected through space. We knew when the other one was watching the same movie. And we loved our little secret to ring the phone only once, confirming that we were thinking of each other.

When I moved out to study, I confessed all my adolescent trials and errors. And you only said I knew it all.

One year later, when you died, you just changed place — into my heart, listening, cheering, comforting, and seeing it all. Today, you are 99. Thank you, Dad: my primary source of confidence and unending love.

Champagne for the Mind #60 — September 7, 2023