Police Daughter

by Tabitha S.

Little girls can learn a lot of things from their father. He’s your first dance partner. The buyer of an endless supply of stuffed animals. He teaches you how to ride your first bike by tricking you into believing he’s holding on but letting go and showing you that you can actually do it on your own. He’ll show you how to make some scrambled eggs- the good way- and then make spaghetti for dinner because he’s not exactly the next Top Chef (unless it’s on a grill). He gives you bravery every time you go to the doctor and they break out the needles. He can scare away anyone who wishes you harm with just a single look- and then look at you with tears in the same eyes the first time you get on a plane without him. He’ll give you the first bag of popcorn even though you weren’t the one who wanted it, just because he knows that deep down you can’t resist it. He’ll teach you to chase after your dreams and how to steadfastly ignore all those who say you can’t.

You learn lots of things from your father, but you learn even more when your dad is a police officer. You learn how to tell if someone is lying. You learn how to shoot, and how to tell how many shots should be left in the guns on action movies. You learn how to find fingerprints. You compete to see who can figure out the killer first when watching crime shows. You know what comes after “You have the right to remain silent” by heart. You learn how to effectively defend yourself with nothing more than a straw from McDonald’s.

When you’re the daughter of a police officer, you discover pretty early on how to be strong. How to be independent. How to worry. How to be brave when you go to the hospital after he’s been hurt in a high-speed chase. How to breathe again after hearing that, yes, he was in a situation where a suspect was armed but, no, he was not hurt.

When your dad is a police officer, you look at flashing lights very differently. The color blue has a different sort of meaning. The sound of a siren is followed by a prayer for their well-being. It’s a kiss goodbye around 5 am and a welcome home hug at the end of the day. It’s being picked up from school by a car with “410” written on the side and “Daddy” in my mind. It’s showing pride on the outside and feeling fear on the inside because not everyone sees that uniform the way you do.

I was born the daughter of a police officer and, though he may be retired, I will always proudly claim that title. But my dad is so much more than that. He is my teacher, my support, my sometimes therapist, my mechanic, my handyman, one of my biggest fans… and one of the biggest reasons I am the person I am today. From dance lessons to fast food related self-defense to teaching me how to use tools, my dad is always there to guide me through everything life could throw at me. And that can never be repaid.

                                       

I love you, 410.