I do remember walking hand in hand with him once as a little boy, the sense of security safety and solace that filled me. And though I am 48 now and my father is 30 years sleeping in his grave, I still long for his breath, just to feel his touch.
My children, I have vowed, won’t know that pain.
I cup Malik’s head in my hands, then brush his hair neatly into a sheen as I complete a fresh cut and my hands smooth lilac aftershave over his hairline and neck. This is our bond.
One more haircut down. And hopefully, years of many more to go.
John W. Fountain is a professor of journalism at Roosevelt University and author of “True Vine: A Young Black Man’s Journey of Faith, Hope and Clarity.”
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