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He’s not running away. He’s recharging.
Every dad’s downstairs looks a little different. In my house, it’s a half-finished basement with wood-paneled walls, a worn leather recliner that’s molded perfectly to one body shape, and the faint, permanent smell of sawdust and coffee.
It was always an open invitation to just be.
He’s not running away. He’s recharging.
Every dad’s downstairs looks a little different. In my house, it’s a half-finished basement with wood-paneled walls, a worn leather recliner that’s molded perfectly to one body shape, and the faint, permanent smell of sawdust and coffee.
It was always an open invitation to just be.
