“Are you sure?” I looked at him, holding tight a manual book he gave me. Step by step: To be a proper dancer.
He smiled, and then nodded.
“How does it feel? To dance”.
“Why don’t you give it a try instead of asking?”
“It’s not going to be easy? Is it?”
“I will fall, won’t I?”
“Does it hurt? Will I bleed? Is there going to be any bruise?”
“There will be no gain without pain, right?”
“How do I know which step to take?”
“I give you the manual book”.
“What if I forget the steps?”
“You can re-read it anytime.”
“What if I don’t understand the instruction?”
“I’ll hold you and show you how to move”.
“You are dancing with me?”
“All the time. Promise”.
“But what if I stumble? Won’t I hurt you?”
“I am your father. Don’t worry about me”
“What if I ruin the dance?”
“You can practice it over and over again until you nail it. I don’t mind one or two or even a whole slip-up. Remember, I’m your father, don’t mind to look bad in front of me. I love you anyway.”
“How about the music? Is it getting more difficult to be kept on?”
“You want to be perfect right? Take your time, and just learn”.
“Why don’t we talk about the good part? The dance floor, it’s going to be great. The music, it’ll take your breaths away. The swings and sways, you’ll enjoy it and forget that you are dancing. And soon, you’ll get used to it”.
“No more buts. Enough for the talks. How about give yourself a try, and we’ll deal with the rest later. Let’s dance! Cue music!”
And as soon as I try to move my body, I fall in love with the dance. The music is perfect, my steps are not so bad, I can see the world while I spin, and moreover, I love the hands that hold me tight. ‘It’s going to be harder,’ he whispered to my ear, ’but I promise it’s going to be more awesome too. Are you ready?’ I looked into his eyes and know he is the one I ever need. I nodded. How lucky I am, to have a father who holds me all the time, watches me step by step. A father who fights along. A father who dance.