Man in the mirror

I miss the stranger, a bond between us. An older guy, thinning hair with an increasingly conservative approach to life . Do we all pull back as we age? He loved to show that hed’d seen it all before, the Phillies losing to the Astroes? He reflects on the 1993 team - bothe seasons in similar fashion. The frozen lock on the truck’s driver door - he says get graphic like he did with his old F-100 . His knowledge and experience are indispensable, wisdom,.The younger kids think they know it all and he is useless. Isn’t that the way it always goes as generates pass the torch (sometimes that torch is fumbled). We don’t really talk, it is more of a low mumble and borderline rants. I always thought he was vaguely familiar, and there it is it is dad. Now, there is no swooop of hair to cover the ever-expanding patch of skin on top of the head as he did so many years prior, but remnants of a once flourishing socient remain on both heads. Combine that with the similarly large noses, and “..you could never deny he’s your father..” as the heart surgeon said a few years ago. I splash water on my face a few times to overcome the tiredness of the morning, the water beads on my head and rolls down the gutters on each side of the nose along with the wrinkles forming around the eyes, a tiny drop hands conspicuously on my chin. 

At first it was shocking to see him staring back at me in the mirror. At first, I wanted to ask about the serpintine belt on the truck and how to replace before remembering or realzing it is just me, and I know what needs to be done with the belt - push the middle pulley to loosen the tension and abra cadabra it slides off. I need to get that part to fix the dryer, just like he did at the house on Manslick so many years ago. Mom could not believe he did anything right, but I was a witness. I admire my visitor, my nemesis, my twin, all the while others hate him. Do they hate me as well? I wish we could sit down for a conversation like the past - a sober conversation. He did appear in a dream one night, but all I thought about was the recent prostate exam and all of our jokes. We had so many good laughs. I remember him standing in the mirror so many years ago, spraying men’s hairspay to keep that flap in place. It was infeminate (in my mind), especially when he borrowed Mom’s White Rain but he usually had a product called Consort. We were stuck in a boat on a nearby lake when a storm surprised us and dumped rain as we sped towards the dock, I laughed as Dad steared the boat while whiping the stinging hair spray running into his eyes. In the end, we were both laughing.