Father Figure: from boys to daddies

Its such a big jump between dad and daddy. Kisses turn different, breathing promises of different kinds. Hugs mean so much more, more promises, more need. I come from a very typical Punjabi family which should tell you everything you need to know. The men are always afraid of affection, the machismo being buried deep in their unsure open arms and unflinching fists. It’s no wonder at all that I dream of belonging with a man who gifts me with every embrace, every salt-pearl that collects in the threads of his jacket that smells like comfort. Worn down to the point of feeling like soft kisses on my cheek. 

I’ve learnt to call my men beautiful. Men are in fact beautiful. Hearing that word attributed to them makes them blush like shy schoolchildren, embarrassed at such atrocities. Who is this beautiful? Call them sweetheart immediately after, especially those men who tower and terrify you. Watch their eyes. See it fill with that softness of letting go, dreaming of letting go, they’ve been protectors for so long. But they can’t let go. 

Step closer, closer, closer, until you breathe on their beard or scruff or clean-shaven face. They’re all daddies worthy of your hammer loosening one brick at a time. Watch him as you, happy, dance circles around him, and let him love you with his eyes. Love is such a throwaway word, and I can say it to a man who shares his eyes with me, especially when he doesn’t mean to. Boys, let them break, let them shatter not shutter, turn them to dust as your arms barely touch in the hug, but attempt to break him. Bear hug him with all your life, little twinks and chubby boys, soft-bellied boys and glitter shadow boys, these men are so big and wonderful and terrified at breaking in front of their boys. Make them kneel, make them look, as you hold their heads against your chest. This is the part where you become protector. 

Such beautiful daddies, crooning in our hold, our homes, let us in. Let us in as you did with us. Let us take care of you and we know you’ll return tenfold, hundredfold. Us boys know you won’t abandon us. Not when you break so beautifully in our arms, our jackets are absorbers of tragic multitudes. You’re safe my beauty, my cutie, sweetheart. Hear my pets for you, only you. This tenor and tremble in my voice belongs to you, this is the part I know because I’ve broken too many times in your arms. Never too many for you. 

Here is the part where you say that ok, you’ll let us get that puppy or ice cream or book or whatever we want, because you’re a silly old man. So silly, why would you not come to us? You don’t need to knock on our door shyly because we’ll straddle your lap and brat our way out of this like always. 

Silly boys, silly daddies. Don’t be afraid of crying my love. We boys are broken too, needing strong men to protect them. Never forget that we will always bring you down, with love and pillows on the floor, you will look up at us and believe it when I bring you, a man, all masculine edges and indomitable spirit, crashing like a waterfall. Just as loud, just as messy, and chipping away, smoothing away the rock of the years. You deserved to be loved and be safe in return, and it is with love that I tell you to cry. You’re so beautiful and lovely, gorgeous in this light.

Let us love you and love on you daddies. Sometimes, we’ll stroke your head at night, mother you into sleeping when sick, and hide our baked confections no matter how many threats you offer. We have our doe eyes and fully intend to use them. 

Let me love on you, my dear daddy. Protectors need protecting too.