Turns out we're alright after all

As the red wine takes over my father’s tales, I am once again grateful of this family 

I see every youthful spirit run through his veins, steers his lips towards a distant memory of invigoration and whim 

I see his heart find the floor of his past, running along the same sun-cracked tiles of the compound, face bright and feet blackened with grime 

I do not know the names of the same old faces he describes, but the light of his smile brings them to this table 

Together, our necks sunburnt from the Manila eye, slick with sweat from the July heat, surrounded by Christmas lights and Chardonnay  

My father is beautiful 

There are so many words but none more true than beautiful  

As my sister and I are brought closer to ourselves, back to every little thing on this side of Heaven 

At the best of our years and only getting better, soaking in this afterglow of love and timeless tradition 

In this past reality of stories, etched into an outline of nostalgia on his face that resembles my reflection 

We are family and my father is beautiful  

There are so many words but my father is beautiful