A Father’s Pride

“You didn’t have to walk me to school, Dad.” The wind whipped around the edges of a hand-hemmed skirt, the stitches slightly erratic but strong.

“It’s your first day at a new school. I wanted to make sure you got here okay.” The late summer sun beat down on a button-down shirt and tie.

“We’re five blocks from home.”

“Most accidents occur within five miles of home.”

“That’s in cars.”

“Good thing we walked, then.” As they neared the campus a swirl of minivans, bicycles, and skateboards passed them by, ignoring them save for a few headturns. “I see other parents around.”

“Great, you’ve joined the helicopter squad.”

“You have your class schedule printed out?”

The backpack shifted over a broad shoulder, the blouse beneath showing stitches similar to the skirt. “First period English, snore. I’ll navigate alright.”

“You have Mrs. Feld’s number?”

“Saved on speed dial, right after ‘Over-Protective Parent’ at #1.”

As they neared the building they slowed, their steps growing short. “Her office is on the east side of the gym, you can always go there if you have any problems. Don’t forget to stay on campus - remember to make allies, not just friends. Kids who will jump into a fight instead of Instagramming it.”

“Really?”

“I mean it, find a few honorable delinquents and gain their trust. I hid some JUUL refills in the bottom of your backpack, you can use them to buy influence.”

″Seriously Dad?” The backpack came down with a soft thump, hands covering it protectively. “What the hell??”

“Hey, if you don’t use them you can leave them there. They’ve got my fingerprints on them, I'll go down for them if anyone asks.”

With a sigh, the backpack shifted back up into place. “You’re certified, Dad. Past the helicopter brigade, you’re a drone parent now.”

“I...” The footsteps stopped, stalling on the sidewalk. “I know I’m not brave, okay? You get that from your mother. But that doesn’t mean I’m not damn proud of you. If the world has improved at all since my time in school, kids like you made it that way.”

A lip-glossed smile crept up beneath long, semi-curled locks. “Is this my obligatory pep talk now? ’Cause I’m good. Really. You can go back to work now.”

“Right, unnecessary dorky Dad moment.” Cuff links clinked as large arms wrapped around the slightly shorter figure next to them, encompassing them in a hug. “I love you, Sam.”

Reflexively the shoulders stiffened, then sagged as smaller arms wrapped back around. “It's Samantha, please."

"Crap. I'll get that right, one day."

"I still love you too, Drone Dad.” They held together for a couple seconds more. “You know this looks worse when I’m dressed like this.”

“Oh well. I’m already going down for contributing nicotine to minors."

The hands pulled away, latching back onto the straps of the backpack and shifting it again. "Go to work, Dad. I got this."

"I know." A warm smile and a wave bid the teenager goodbye as a bell rang in the distance. "Have a good day!"

There was a quick wave back before lightly tan sandals hit the pavement and disappeared in a sea of puberty.

Wow he's grown so much. The father thought, then corrected himself. She - she's grown so much.

With a heavy sigh, he waited and watched until the long, flowing locks disappeared indoors, looking for any signs of nerves or second-thoughts but seeing none.

One day I'll get it right.

Turning, he smiled and walked back towards their home, so conveniently close to the local high school. Not that he would ever tell Samantha he'd taken the day off to work from home. She'd never let him live that down. Drone Dad, indeed.

In the meantime...maybe he'd gotten enough right, at least for today.