“You promise you won’t let go!”

“I promise. Now wrap your hands around the handlebars and put your feet on both pedals. That’s it. Now I’m going to hold the bars with you and walk alongside when you pedal the bicycle forward. OK?”

“You promise you won’t let go,” she said with fear painted in her eyes.

“I will never let you go until you’re ready.”

My daughter, Sadie was 7 years old. I stood her bicycle up in the neighbor’s driveway across the street from our house in Jim Thorpe because our driveway was too steep. I had removed the training wheels. It was time to let her ride free. It was time to let her go on her own.

“I will never let you go until you’re ready,” I said again. As she pedaled up the driveway and onto the street, I held the handlebars with her as I had promised.

“Ok,” I said. “Pedal faster.” I ran along with the bike, never letting go of the handlebars. We went up Deerview Drive until the road had leveled off.

“You OK?” I asked, catching my breath.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Is it OK if I let go?”

She glanced at me. Her eyes were saying what I wanted to hear.

“You can let go now, Dad.”

Away she went, pedaling up the street, steady as a boat on a placid lake. After her ride, I shared a sandwich with her.

“The wind on my face made tears in my eyes,” she said with a burst of excitement. I laughed. I was glad that she hadn’t seen the tears in my eyes after I had let her go.

Sadie is 16 now. I don’t call her my Guppy anymore. She’s a beautiful young lady. That said, we still speak a language to each other ever since she was 5 that nobody but us would understand. Her favorite word, “Yay!” has become my favorite word, too.

Instead of teddy bear songs we once had sung together before she fell asleep, now we sing along with Taylor Swift in my car as we travel down the road to anywhere. Instead of watching Dora the Explorer on TV together, we watch New Jersey Devils hockey games and agonize with every shot on goal.

She’s grown up from clutching a coloring book in her little hands to holding a suspense novel with fingers of polished nails. She’s come from being named Most Improved Player at a summer basketball camp to Most Improved Young Performer at a summer acting camp that now has her stepping onto the auditorium stage at Jim Thorpe High School.

Nine years have gone by since Sadie pedaled her bike that day. A few weeks ago, she aced her written test to get her driver’s permit. It was time for her to step on a new set of pedals. She’s ready to ride the road on four tires instead of two.

Back then I said, “Put your hands on the handlebars.” Now I say, “Put your hands on the steering wheel.” She looks over at me with that same fear in her eyes that she had before riding her bicycle up the street, but I just know she’s going to do just fine.

Time rolls on and little girls grow up, but they can stay the same age in their fathers’ eyes. When I pull my car into the driveway, I look up the road and see my little Guppy with her hair beneath a blue and white helmet on a Cinderella bicycle. I’m reminded of a song by Tim McGraw.

“Gotta hold on easy as I let you go. Gonna tell you how much I love you though I think you already know. I remember I thought you looked like an angel wrapped in pink, so soft and warm. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since the day you were born ... Chase your dreams, but always know the road that will take you home again. Go on, take on this world, but know, you’ll always be my little girl.”

Not long ago, she went fishing with me and caught a largemouth bass that weighed over five pounds. The big fish wriggled at the end of her line. “Would you be OK to hold it while I take a picture?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” she said. “I will never let go until you’re ready.” We laughed, both knowing why she said that. I took the picture and on the drive home, I recalled another song, this one by Paul Simon that he had written for his daughter.

“Trust your intuition. It’s like going fishin’. You cast your line and hope you get a bite. But you don’t need to waste your time worryin’ about the market place. Try to help the human race, struggling to survive its harshest night. I’m gonna watch you shine. Gonna watch you grow. Gonna paint a sign so you know as long as one and one is two, there could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you.”

They say we don’t own our children; we only rent them for a while. As she sits behind the wheel of my car and is about to drive off, my mind races into her future. Sadie will be leaving for college after next year. My mind flashes forward to another very special moment. I’m holding her hand and we’re walking up the aisle together on her wedding day.

I can imagine that before we take our first step, I’ll think again of her riding her bicycle. I’ll lean over and whisper into her ear the words that I know will bring a big smile to my little girl of so many years ago.

“I will never let you go until you’re ready.”

Rich Strack can be reached at richiesadie11@gmail.com