Dad
He sits there lost in the television watching the colorful cars go around and around the black track. His ocean blue eyes focus, and set. He brings his strong hand that has marks on it, up to rub his aging face. His hand is firm as a rock, the cracks and lines are from all his hard labor. He has earned the calluses from his youth to his middle age. His face is tan from the hot sun. He has little river marks by his eyes from him aging. The light brown dots on his face make him unique. His full red lips bend with each wise word that comes out. You look at him and you’ll see a man focused on a racetrack, but you’ll also see a man with all the wisdom in the world.