Dry, but ungrateful

For the fathers who keep us covered

It was raining again in Texas.
Not the gentle kind. The sideways, windshield-smacking, turn-your-wipers-on-high kind.

I pulled into the driveway, hit the button, and slid into the garage.
Dry. Safe.
I didn’t have to fumble with bags or jackets or umbrellas.

And as the garage door closed behind me, I had a thought I wasn’t ready for:

I’m dry. But ungrateful.

This garage protects me from a storm I can see.
But there are other quieter, heavier storms I’ve been protected from, too.
And I haven’t always said thank you.

---

The man behind the covering:

My husband doesn’t sleep much these days.
Not because he can’t but because he won’t rest until he feels like we’re safe.

Safe financially.
Safe emotionally.
Safe in a world that doesn’t always know how to love Black kids well.

He carries the weight of our future like it's personal.
He plays with our children after long, exhausting days.
He brings sports analogies into everyday life not because he's trying to be cute, but because he’s trying to teach them how the world works before the world tries to teach them otherwise.

He researches opportunities. He makes calls. He reads the fine print.
All so our kids will have options, not just obligations.

And me? I love him. I know he’s a good man.
But I still catch myself nitpicking.

The cupboard’s open. The laundry’s not put away.
I roll my eyes. Grumble under my breath.

But when there’s a spider in the house?
I don’t hesitate.
I know he’s got it.
Just like I know he’s got us.

And that knowing?
That safety?
That invisible net that I live inside every day?

It’s easy to take that for granted when the storm never touches you.

Because that’s what good fathers do.
They protect you so well, you forget there was ever danger.

They show up without needing applause.
They absorb the pressure so we can exhale.

And if I’m honest… I haven’t always noticed it.
I haven’t always named it.
I haven’t always thanked him for the things I never had to feel.

So here’s the shift:

Sometimes the people doing the most are the ones we say the least to.

We say thank you for what gets done.
But do we say thank you for what didn’t fall apart?

Do we call out the covering as quickly as we call out the crumbs on the counter?

The truth is:
I live under the protection of a man who holds up more than I see.
Who carries storms so I don’t have to feel them.
Who keeps me dry, even when I forget it’s raining.

---

This Father’s Day:

Don’t just thank the man in your life for what he’s done.
Thank him for what he never let you feel.
For the weight he carries quietly.
For the strength he possesses to keep you unaware
For the garage he built around your family (with his decisions, his discipline, and his daily effort).

---

Journal Prompt:

What’s something your partner or father does that keeps you dry, even if you rarely say it out loud?

P.S. If this made you think of a father in your life (your husband, dad, brother) send it to him. Sometimes the best thank you is the one they didn’t see coming.