He is never quite the hero his daughter thinks. Never quite the man his son believes him to be. And this worries him sometimes. Fathers grow older faster than people, because they, in other wars, have to stand at the train station and wave goodbye to the uniform that climbs on board. Fathers are men who give daughters away to other men, who aren't nearly good enough, so that they can have children that are smarter than anybody's.
Fathers fight dragons almost daily.
They hurry away from the breakfast table, off to the arena which is sometimes called an office or a workshop. And they never quite win the fight, but they never give up. There's little difference as they march away each workday. I don't know where father goes when he dies, but I've an idea that, after a good rest, wherever it is, he won't just sit on a cloud and wait for the girl he's loved and the children she bore. You stood 10 feet tall, legs spread, hands on your hips, and a smile on your face as you looked down at me sitting on the floor.