Hug

a haiku about noticing the aging of my father

I hug my father
here for the weekend. I feel
deep ridges of his ribs.

My father turns 81 today (1/22/2024). Every year, he gets skinnier and his hair line recedes farther back. Seeing him only once a year, the change feels drastic. One cannot help but be sad a little, to see your immortal hero showing wear, mortality and fragility. The world will be saved, because dad always comes back home, tucks you into your bed, rests his large powerful hands on your forehead and blesses you. As you feel the bones of your dad through the skin, you realize that the world just goes on.

But in the fragile hero, another superpower reveals itself. Courage. Faith. My dad still goes to library everyday and writes in his little notebook. He flies to South Korea every year, to do his part to make the two Koreas, one; the way it was and the way it should be. Faith to entrust the next generation. His body carries memories of many victories and defeats, and expects more victories and defeats.