Photo Source: Unsplash Photo of Me Standing in My Father’s Hand My feet in his palm, I’m four months old, balancing, fist gripped onto the thumb of his free hand that he hovers above me, a magician’s over a pink-ruffled hat. This is before he earned his degree, enough money to move us out of the city. Before the sales trips, the bars, the slurred phone calls. He is flexing his arm for the camera looking above it to meet my mother’s eye, my mother who took this picture trusting he would never...