The giant

When I was little he seemed like a giant!

His hands were so big that I could hide in them.

Behind his thick beard, he hid a smile, capable of capturing you suddenly, just like the flash of a self-timer and I was always dazzled by it.

The giant preferred to appear gruff to hide his tender heart, but I never feared him, on the contrary, I felt protected by that imposing presence.

Then something must have gone wrong… or maybe the magic potion of life must have turned it into something unexpected and slowly I saw it get smaller and smaller, more and more helpless and naked.

Now I am the giant and he has turned into a man.

A fallacious man, without beard and hair, with a tired face and hands full of fragility.

Now my arms are his safe haven and my words, his memory.

If life thinks it has taken the biggest part, showing me the man instead of the giant, it’s wrong… because what makes him really great is not his body, but the title he earned the first day I came to light:

– Dad!

“Yes, he is and always will be, my dad”.