Watching Her Grow: My Journey Through Time

Fourteen years. That’s how long it’s been since I first held Shamika in my arms—a tiny, fragile bundle of innocence. In those early days, everything felt new. The first giggle, the first stumble, the first time she said “ta ta ta….geeee” I was clueless, nervous, and utterly overwhelmed. But above all, I was in awe.

 Watching your first child grow is a bit like being gifted a second childhood. You get to be silly again, laugh for no reason, dance around the living room, and make funny faces just to get a smile. You find yourself doing ridiculous things in front of a camera because that’s what freedom looks like through your child’s eyes—unfiltered joy. There were messy days too—quite literally. I still remember cleaning Shamika’s nose when she had a cold, gently reminding her (more like nagging, really) about hygiene and grooming. I was her coach, her nurse, her storyteller, and her cheerleader. And somewhere in that chaos, I found my own life becoming fuller and more meaningful.

Fast forward to now—she’s a teenager. Independent, opinionated, and fiercely conscious about her image. She rolls her eyes at baby photos and groans when I show her that one picture—yes, the one she hates me for keeping. But I can’t help it. That photo is a time capsule. It’s proof that no matter how grown-up she becomes, there was once a time when she clung to my finger just to take her first step.

And here’s the twist I never saw coming—Shamika now teaches me. She points out when my shirt is outdated, nags me to trim my beard properly, and insists I comb my hair "like a normal person." Somewhere along the way, our roles began to shift. She's becoming her own person, and I’m learning to let go, slowly, carefully.

But no matter how grown she gets, she’ll always be my little girl.

They teach you patience, vulnerability, and above all, unconditional love. Watching Shamika grow has been the most humbling and joyful experience of my life. And while the days seem to race by, the memories we’ve created are stitched deeply into my heart. Here’s to every father out there getting a second shot at childhood through the eyes of their child—and to daughters like Shamika, who make that journey unforgettable. Daughters are special.