My father has always looked through a wide frame lens He sees the flaws and the work wrapped delicately in regrets and pride He watches as the sun rises and falls from the center of my chest He sees ocean waves in the irises of the eyes he passed to me (he takes me driving to see the super moon in the fall) there is no facade or performance with and for him He sees it all and offers no wavering, conditional affection. “If anything happened to you, my world would shatter.” My father gave me the experience of feeling precious. My father taught me attachment. and as I grew and moved, I looked back to witness the ways and times I’ve loved and been loved and despite the depth and authenticity, nothing stuck or lasted longer then what was enough. And here I am again at the precipice of a new moon, a waxing crescent a love that is tangible yet fragile but to him, it comes and goes and he fears its illusive state and i fear its capacity to crumble - it isn't consistent yet he isn't consistent, yet. Maybe I'm not, either. This process and indecision changes the ways I feel held. I don't feel special. Not in his eyes, yet. I don’t want the waning and waxing with anything related to the love he has to offer. Give me the wide lens frame, the sunrise and sunset, the ocean waves. Synchronize with your head and heart. give me the full moon or nothing at all.