First dates
Brian Sankarsingh reflects on first dates
The soft hum of the air conditioning lulls my mind on this humid summer evening. Its white noise imparts a sense of anticipation and nostalgia. As I see my daughter exit the car outside, her eyes are still sparkling with the excitement of the evening. It’s a moment that I’ve both dreaded and looked forward to—her first date.
I remember the first time I held her, cradled in my arms, swaddled in a blanket, her tiny fingers wrapped around mine. Back then, the world felt simpler. My role was clear: protector and provider. I was the man who could fix anything with a hug and a Band-Aid. But as the years have passed, my little girl has grown, and with her, that role has evolved. Now, I find myself in uncharted territory, where I must learn to let go while still holding on.
As she walks into the house, the door clicks softly behind her, sealing off the outside world. I look into her face, and I see the subtle change in her demeanor. She is no longer just my little girl but a young woman who is experiencing the thrill and vulnerability of stepping into a new chapter of her life.
“How was it?”
She looks at me, her eyes wide with that mix of excitement and trepidation. “It felt… nice. But also kind of scary, you know? I didn’t know what to expect, and I kept thinking, ‘What if he doesn’t like me?’ or ‘What if I say something wrong?’”
I nod again, my heart swelling with pride and empathy. “It’s natural to feel that way,” I say. “First dates are like stepping into a new world. It’s exciting, but it can also be overwhelming. The most important thing is to be yourself, to remember that you’re enough just as you are.”
As she continues to describe her evening a smile plays across my lips, but my heart tugs in two directions. I want to hear every detail, to share in her joy, but there’s also a part of me that feels the weight of what this means. My daughter is growing up, and with that growth comes new experiences, new emotions, and new challenges.
“Dad,” she inquires hesitantly, “how did you know Mom was the one?”
The question catches me off guard, and I feel a rush of emotions—memories of my own youth, of the first time I saw her mother, of the moments that led us to build this life together. I smile, thinking of the woman who is now my partner in raising this incredible young woman.
“It wasn’t something that happened all at once,” I explain. “It was in the little things—how she made me feel, how she made me laugh, how comfortable I felt in her presence. It was a feeling that grew over time, like a tree taking root.”
She nods, absorbing my words, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind. She’s at the beginning of her own journey, and I want to help her navigate it with confidence and wisdom.
“Just remember,” I continue, “that love is something you build. It’s not just about the spark or the excitement of a first date. It’s about finding someone who respects you, who makes you feel valued, who supports you in being the best version of yourself.”
As the evening stretches on, our conversation drifts from the details of her date to the bigger picture—how to recognize red flags, the importance of setting boundaries, and the fact that it’s okay to walk away if something doesn’t feel right. I want her to know that she deserves to be treated with kindness and respect, that her feelings matter, and that she should never feel pressured to be anything other than who she is.
Eventually, the conversation winds down, and I can see that she’s tired. I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that feels both familiar and new.
“I’m proud of you,” I say softly. “You’re growing up, and I can see how strong and wise you’re becoming. Just know that no matter what, I’m here for you. You can always talk to me, about anything.”
She leans in and gives me a hug, a gesture that fills my heart with warmth. As she heads off to bed, I sit back, the room now quiet, and I reflect on the evening.
This journey of parenthood is not easy. One must learn to let go while still holding on. We must learn to watch our children step into their own lives; make their own mistakes and learn their own lessons. But it’s moments like this, these quiet, honest conversations, that remind me of the beauty in it all. As I sit there, the house settling into the silence of the night, I find comfort in knowing that while my role may have changed, my love for her remains as steadfast as ever.
Bio: BRIAN SANKARSINGH is a Trinidadian-born Canadian immigrant who has published several books of poetry on a wide range of social and historical themes including racism, colonialism, and enslavement. Sankarsingh artfully blends prose and poetry into his storytelling creating an eclectic mix with both genres. This unique approach is sure to provide something for everyone.
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