Like a wolf on guard

When you live inside a tired body, broken inside and pressured outside, you learn to move slowly. Sometimes even to not move at all. But there comes a moment when, however weak your chest may be or however clouded your mind, a force emerges that is non-negotiable: the force to protect your child.

That force doesn't come from health. It comes from instinct.

From love without artifice.

From the responsibility that no one taught you but that never slipped from your grasp.

There are days when I breathe as if it hurts to exist, and yet I'm attentive to every detail: how he sleeps, how he speaks, what he keeps silent about, what worries him. There's a kind of vigilance that has nothing to do with fear, but with tenderness. A silent guard made of presence, of gaze, of being there even when my own body begs me to surrender.

Lobo looks at me as if I were stronger than I am. And sometimes I think that, without meaning to, he has saved my life more times than I have saved his. Not with words, but with the way he has of trusting me even when I don't trust myself.

When the world feels too big, he comes closer. Like a wolf cub who knows when his father needs warmth, contact, a small gesture that says, "You're not alone."

And it's strange, because I'm the one who should be protecting him… but in those moments, he's the one who holds me up.

Life hasn't been easy for us. Not for me, not for him. We've learned to walk together through uncertainty, illness, and the noise others create around us. And yet, there's a peaceful corner we always find: that space where he knows he can lean on me, and I know I must persevere for both of us.

Being a father under these circumstances isn't epic. It isn't heroic. It's, sometimes, simply getting up and continuing to breathe when there's no air left. But it's also a promise: the promise to watch over, protect, care for, and teach. The promise to be the firm figure even when I'm trembling inside.

I don't need to be strong to be a good father.

I need to be present.

And I never fail at that.

Because a tired wolf is still a wolf.

And as long as my son is by my side, I'll stay on guard, even if it's hard to lift my head.

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