These are my father's lips. For the first fourteen years of my life they were largely unknown to me. For a number of years A Van Dyke beard covered most of the lower section of his face; a mustache grew over his upper lip, and a goatee covered the extent of his chin, and before this a full beard decorated the expanse of his cheeks.
One day he shave it all off. All of it. We pleaded in favor of the life of the Van Dyke, but my father simply said- It is time. And that was that; he never looked back. For myself, I was shocked. The fact that my father even had lips amazed me, and more so I was fascinated by the way they curled- and I still am today. Nobody has lips like my father, they seemed to curl with open joy, and yet they seem to enclose some greater wisdom. They bring me joy.
Many people are like my Father's lips, they conceal themselves and their greatness. They remain hidden in perhaps some ornate decorated facade for some time, but eventually their desire to be revealed wins and they come forth, their natural simplicity made public.
Nothing against my father's beard, it was more than epic in its own right, but there's just something about those lips.
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