tonight is the final recital this poor fool has steeled himself for the voice of his no longer baby girl to serenade one last time

he has not

in fact this is the one he has dreaded since he saw the first last choir recital two years ago

he envisioned her picture as a baby next to the woman she becomes

it made him feel the well of emotion burn then

now it becomes reality

she is ready, always ready, unaware how fleeting these moments are in the grand scheme, excited to tackle the next mountain without realizing the peaks get higher by miles each old one vanquished until all that remained are misty cloud obscuring the view to forever

he is not ready

but he will pretend to be as tears run down his weathered cheeks

no different than all the other recitals

except it is

but don’t tell him that

he isn’t nearly as strong as he pretends, not nearly the unflappable iron masculinity he wishes

no

more aluminum than iron, more salty tears than tidal wave, he is exactly who he is

for better or worse

and no matter tensile grip strength, no man can hold the hands of time still

even if they desperately wish to