Becoming My Father

In many ways, driving a city bus and writing—however modestly—are both gifts from my father. Those who carry deep wounds often turn to writing. And most of the elderly men who step onto my bus wear the same stern expression my father used to have. It’s the face of a painful modern history.

As I grow older, I see more of my father in my own reflection. And that resemblance weighs heavily on me.

It’s a strange thing.
Children grow to resemble their fathers.
In their expressions, their stride, their hobbies, even their scars—and sometimes, their illnesses.
A son may face the same diagnosis at the same age his father did.
A father’s duty is to pass down what’s good
and carefully cut away what’s not.