I always remember him standing at the door - strong, stealthy and confident. No, we didn’t have to have long conversations to understand each other. No, he didn’t have to know everything about my life, but he always knew how I felt.

The doorbell rings. I can hear my mother turning off the running water in the kitchen and walking towards the door. I get up quickly from where I sit and run after her. “Daddy!!” I yell and jump into my father’s arms. I know he is tired from all day working, but he lifts me up the highest of the highest and gives me a big smooch on my cheek. “Ugh!” I say and swipe my face with my arm. He laughs.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he says while brushing my hair. This is the favorite time of my day where I lay my head on my dad’s knees after dinner and start telling him about anything and everything. The night falls and he carries me to bed, tucks me in and says I am here if you have a nightmare and slowly closes the door behind him.

He looks at me with a worry in his eyes and says “if anybody bothers you in school let me know, okay?” I nod. “You will do your homework every day and be a good student, all right?” I nod. I don’t know why he is acting like this. We had so much fun while shopping for my school supplies and he was so proud when he told the shopkeeper that I am starting school next week. I want to talk about what I want to be when I grow up like we always do. I want him to ask me about numbers, letters, and colors. But here we are, I am sitting on his lap, all those colorful pencils, notebooks, wrapping papers are all over the place, and he looks sad. He gets up, eyes over my new bright, cheerful treasure on the floor one more time and says “you will be an excellent student” before closing the door behind him.

Why does he have to ask so many questions? Why can’t I go to the birthday party that my friend is throwing in his apartment? And what was all that talk about “I trust you, but I don’t trust men?” I don’t think he trusts me at all. If he did why does he interrogate me about my day and my friends? I hate this. I hate that he thinks every person around me is a possible predator. I hate that I can’t wear whatever I want, and I am questioned about my private life. I look at his face with anger. His eyes are sharp, and his shoulders are forward. We look like two bulls about to run toward each other for a head collision. I push the vase on the counter-top with the back of my hand and run to my room before it hits the floor and breaks into hundreds of pieces. He follows me, but I slam my door in his face and lock it. “You will understand someday; I am trying to protect you,” he says. I hear him walking away slowly.

Everybody is in their best look. I see freshly ironed shirts rubbing against smooth silk dresses in the hallway decorated with beautifully arranged flowers. My palms are sweaty, and I feel nauseous. Not only because I am the center of attention, and I have to keep smiling, but also because I have this psychological weight of me being at an important corner of my life along with the weight of the dress. I excuse myself from the group of friends who have been complimenting to me nonstop for the last 15 minutes and go to my private room. I feel suffocated and happy at the same time. I hear a knock on the door, and I hear my dad’s voice calling my name. “Daddy!!” I say and hug him a little longer than I usually do. He takes my hand leads me to one of those heavily ornate chairs and sits across from me. I look at his face, and he looks at mine. “Here we are he says” with a broken smile and a tired voice. I feel a pang in my heart somewhere I have never known existed before. I know that “Here we are,” says a lot more than I love you. I hold his hand, fighting my tears and smile. He gets up kisses my forehead and says “you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen” before closing the door behind him.

The setting, plot, and style may differ, but the feelings we get from these important moments in life are pretty much the same in every father-daughter relationship. Just like you, I didn’t have many long conversations with my dad. I didn’t think he was my best friend that I can share everything with growing up. I definitely did not let him know of every heartbreak and every change in my life. But just like you, my dad was and is an invisible, unbreakable and covert anchor in my life. And just like you, I know, he will be standing at the door to support me every time I am ready to walk into a new world.