I flew down to Orlando from Baltimore in late February of 2026 to spend a week with my dad. His name is Paul Singer Sr., and at sixty three, he was one of those men who still moved like he had unfinished work to do. He had the kind of hands that looked permanently weathered, thick across the knuckles, veins raised under the skin, the hands of somebody who had spent his whole life fixing, carrying, building, and refusing to sit still. I had always admired that about him. Growing up, he was never the kind of father who talked much just to hear himself. If he had something to say, it mattered. If he laughed, it was real. If he told you not to worry, you believed him. I was thirty one at the time, living in Baltimore, training regularly, working out six days a week, still keeping the same discipline I’d had since I was younger. I’m a fifth degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do, so I’ve always trusted my body. Trusted my grip. Trusted my balance. I’m not saying that to brag. I’m saying it becau...
okay so some context, i moved out at 18 for uni, been living alone in a different city for 9 years. came back home only for holidays. it was... not always easy growing up. my dad wasn't great to my mom, i remember her calling me crying a lot those years. he passed away a few years ago. my sister stayed back with my mom through all of that while i was sending money and trying to help from a distance. she finished her uni in the same city, stayed close to home. we handled things differently i guess. so she just finished her master's, applied to the same company i've been at for 4 years, got the job (same branch as me lol), and we decided to move in together for at least 2 years partly to save money, partly because my mom basically suggested it and honestly she wasn't wrong. having someone you actually know in a city where you've mostly just... existed alone is different than i thought it would be. it's been one month and i don't know. she's not the annoy...