Title: The day my Music Died.
My heart constantly has a craze for music. The pace of the beat is the blood in my veins. When I close my eyes and hear the notes, tasting the sweet voice, they leave on my tongue. The sound of my soul, that beats within the walls of my heart. I feel unfilled without it being there, exposed without the silken material of sound. This is all that I have, my one and only.
Father would also come to those concerts. He would walk in the back entrance then sit in the back row. I would see him sitting back there with that solemn look on his face. When I was looking at my fathers' blank stare, it hit me that it was a gaze he gave me out the sense of obligation. There was no joy in his face; the corners of his mouth never once wrinkled. I would look out for him and pray that he would, just this one time, smile at me if not the music. Even if I could scream at him and tell him this is who I am, this is who I want to be, he would hear nothing of it. There was simply no way around it. I would spend hours thinking of the things that I could do to help him understand, something that was musically shared between us. This was not going to happen. He hardly listened to music at all, and when he did, it did nothing for him at all.
When I was young riding in the car and turning on the radio because I wanted to listen to music, it didn't take a lot of time for him to switch the radio off or tune it looking for some sports station.
If there was something that could have made our bound to grow its music but it felt nothing to him, Music for him would never work. If his name was not on the birth certificate, besides