I played princess from the time I learned to walk, never with anyone else. I would dream about the day that I would meet Prince Charming and have the Cinderella wedding every other little girl in the world dreamed about. My life would be perfect, complete with a pony and a castle. I was five when my mom had met her Prince Charming and I met the man that I see as my dad.
My own father was in and out of my life it seemed every week. Not that he didn’t care, he just had no idea how to show it. I seemed to be only something to brag about. My dad, no, he acknowledged me all of the time. He was always proud of me, even for the littlest things, like when I came home from school knowing how to tie my shoes in a double knot, or when I got my first A.
Growing up, he was just as much my valentine as he was my mom’s. A dozen roses and a card for her, one rose and candy for me. Sometimes it was some jewelry for her and a stuffed animal for me. Never did I get a better present than he gave my mom, but somehow that one rose meant more than the dozen she received. It was just the fact that he cared that meant so much and I’d never trade it for anything materialistic.
Then there came a day when a cell phone never left my hand and my dad was put on the back burner. Friends, dances, going to the mall and the movies all became more important. Later it became college stuff and an often-hectic work schedule. But every Saturday was game day. We would sit ourselves on the couch and scream at the TV, watching Michigan win football game after football game.
Tickets to the Big House made him cry when I could finally afford to get them. (We happen to be going again this fall). Not just the tickets, but a letter of how much he meant to me throughout the 11 years he’d been in my life. (It’s now been 16. Holy cow). We left Mom behind and took the drive up. The jeep’s top was down, the music was turned up and all we could think about was that Saturday afternoon game. Campus was beautiful and we were starstruck when we were walking down the street and none other than Denard Robinson stopped to talk to us from the Corner Pub, all the way to Schembechler Hall. I had decided by then that Michigan was a little too pricey and a little too large for such a small girl like me. But I couldn’t help but rethink my decision after walking with him for so long.
The week after was Homecoming and somehow I had managed to be a candidate. Who was there to walk me across the football field? Of course, it was my dad. He cried that day, too, and I’ve never been so happy in my life to see someone cry. My name was called to walk across and he whispered something quietly to me, “I’m so proud of you, princess.” I knew not to be nervous anymore because he was there to catch me if I fell. Just like he had been when I learned how to ride a bike and the first time a stupid boy had made me cry. I wrapped my arm around his and walked across the field.
Someday he won’t be walking me across the football field, I’ll be in a wedding dress and he’ll be the one to give me away and that day I’ll make him cry again. “I’m so proud of you, princess.” I’ll never forget those words. Finally I wasn’t playing princess anymore, I was the princess.
