The uncomfortable revelation of your father's lack of divinity comes eventually.

It doesn't matter or not if you're in the shower or

Potting begonias in the back of your mother's house so that she doesn't wear out her joints.

As revelations do, the truth strikes hard and fast.

My father is a man.



Things that are observational:

Your father will die.

Your father will make mistakes. He will make bad decisions. He will argue about things he doesn't know about until the point where he's won and you know you're right.

Your father has a body of flesh and blood.

One day, he will fall off his bike at high speed, smash his kneecap again concrete and there will be the worry he won't get back up again.

He does, but another layer of the invulnerability that your childhood coated in him slides off.

When you were six, you dipped him in the...