I remember the strength of his hand on mine and the warmth he spread to my hands during a cold winter day. I looked up at my dad. Each morning I would tightly hold his hand and hope to never let go. He was a strong man, someone I felt protected with.
     

Walking to school when I was five is a very small memory of my childhood but it was a time when I could feel the safe presence of my dad. He was much taller than me and his figure would tower over me. I felt small with him, like how a mouse feels small compared to a lion. As each day passed, I noticed how my hand fit into my dad’s hands perfectly. He held on to it like a shell protecting it. His heavy breathing had a strange rhythm to it that I enjoyed listening to every day. Once we walked out of the house, our journey began.
   

 I started walking but it was hard to catch up since each of his steps equaled two of my steps. After a few blocks, I grew tired. My dad noticed that I was going slower and decided to carry me. Even though it was so early in the morning and he was tired from working late, he still carried me all the way to school. Sometimes, I would want to walk again and he would happily put me down and let me continue walking.
     

My dad took caution of each streetlight, car, and passerby. He held on tightly as we crossed each street, making sure I was safe. I liked the thought of having my dad as my own personal bodyguard. My friends had their moms take them to school but I had my dad. In my eyes, he was the strongest man in the world. When something dangerous happened, he was there like a knight in shining armor.
     

I dreaded the time when we arrived at school because our journey was over. Even though tomorrow was another adventure, I didn’t want to end it. If anything, it seemed like he didn’t want to let go but I was the one that truly didn’t want to let go each morning. I would do anything just to not let go. Once I did, coldness surrounded me. I didn’t have my dad’s protection anymore and he was leaving me. It was weird of me to think that he didn’t want me anymore, but that’s what I felt. I felt that he, my dad, wanted to abandon me and just the thought of it, scared me each and every day.
     

Looking back, I’m glad I walked those ten blocks to school with my dad. I hold these memories in my heart and hope to someday share them with my kids. It was scary to go to school and leave home for almost a whole day. It was a new chapter in my life and I knew that letting go of my dad’s hand each day helped me become the person I am today.