This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

First, you made me your flannel dad. The noise and buzz of the city got to be too much for me. I sold my condo and moved out into the country and got a job doing inventory at the truck stop to earn us some extra cash. When I’d come home after a long night shift, you’d call me into the bedroom and make me strip out of my work clothes. 

With my hands behind my head, back straight, chest out, and chin forward, I stood in silence while you inspected my body. You told me how fit I was getting, how the physical work was better for me than sitting behind a desk in a faceless corporate skyscraper. I believed you. I still do. 

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