315. Dad Crush <LIMITED · 2026>

And I crushed, just a little, all over again.

Let me be clear: this isn’t that kind of story. There’s no Freudian punchline, no scandal. It’s something quieter, and in its own way, more devastating. 315. Dad Crush

I kissed his forehead. He stirred, mumbled, “Love you, kid.” And I crushed, just a little, all over again

The crush faded, as crushes do. By seventeen, I was annoyed by his dad jokes. By eighteen, I was embarrassed by his old sneakers. By twenty, I was gone to college, calling home once a week, keeping him on speaker while I scrolled my phone. It’s something quieter, and in its own way,

That was it. The warmth of his palm. The smell of sawdust and his faded flannel shirt. The quiet confidence of his voice saying, “You’ve got this.”

He had softer hands now. More gray. Slower to get up from the floor after playing with the dog.