My favorite aunt adopted him when I was 12. She is a single mother, so my brother and I share the male-figure role in his life. I remember how bad it stung the first time he noticed I'd said a swear word. Shared a beer with him when he wasn't legal, because I knew he was doing it anyway; I did. Let him taste whiskey, so I knew he'd stay away from it- for now. I still get the same combination of a father's horror and pride when I think about the time he bragged about his first HJ ("She was fat, but her hand wasn't).

Let him hold a gun. Snuck him into a bar to see his first punk show (daytime, so not too rowdy). Gave him advice on school, girls, his mother. How to dress. How to shave. How a responsible adult should behave.

He asks me about bands that I like. He tells me about the books he's enjoying.

He just finished his freshman year of college and I couldn't be prouder.

Saw this photo today and realized that the kid actually listens to what I say. A scary notion.
I gotta hand it to you fathers. I'm not sure I have the stomach for it- the real thing at least.
If the world ended today, it would be too soon.