Sing Sweet Music To Rock My Soul

“Daddy, did you forget your briefcase?” A four-year old using the word briefcase like SHE carries one. It always makes me smile. Except this morning, it made me catch my breath. I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I played along.

“Yeah, sweetie, I forgot it.” The lie stuck to my teeth like bitter toffee. Wee Lass noticed no difference in my voice, no change of inflection. I put the car in reverse. Hopefully she would not mention it again before our arrival at daycare.

“Daddy, you forgot your music thing.”
“What? My music thing?”
“Your music thing, for the ray-dio.” The way she says it sounds like a word for beams of light. Damn, she is right. I do not have the “music thing”; the faceplate for my car stereo is in my briefcase, which is sitting on the floor in the dining room. Without it, no music.

“Yeah, well, its in the house. I’m not going back to get it.”
“Please, Daddy? Please?”
“I’m sorry, sweet pea, we don’t have time.”

I pull the car out onto the street running past our court. Gaggles of schoolkids huddle at the corners waiting for the bus. The usual suspects are out today, the morning shift of dog walkers and early joggers. Wee Lass and I make it a game to count the dogs we see every morning. Bonus points to the eagle eye that spots a dog wearing a hat or sweater. Fluffy Tail and Mistress Jogger are heading up the sidewalk on their vigorous morning walk-run. I don’t know how they do it. Wee Lass pipes up from the back seat.

“Daddy, I wanna hear some music.”
“I’m really sorry, honey, I just forgot the radio.”
“Hmmpphh.” She pouts, an unbearably cute scrunchie face she makes when she half-serious in her irritation.

“But, Dah-deee, I wanna hear Brass Monkey.” I grin. I should have known that was coming.
“Daddy’s really sorry, maybe next time.”
“Hmmpphh. It’s no fun without music!” Say what? Did my daughter just say that? I laugh.

“I know it isn’t, dearie, but we’ll have some later.” Silence. I glance in the rear view mirror. Wee Lass has her bottom lip pooched out as she stares out the window. Little wisps of ash blonde hair frame her impossibly beautiful face. My heart contracts as I feel like the Queen’s Guard who just failed in his mission. I return my attention to the road.

“I know, Daddy, I’ll sing us some music!” Wee Lass calls out. The car fills with the strains of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, sung in that quavery little girl voice that might as well be the stylings of an angel. Wee Lass gets through a round of that, a big smile on her face.

“That was beautiful, sweetie” I tell her but she isn’t quite listening. She has already launched into her version of “Baa, Baa Black Sheep, Have You Any Wool?” For the first time ever, Wee Lass does not shush me as I join in on the chorus. We look at each other across a few feet of mirror, her blue eyes shining in the early morning light. We have made the turn onto the road leading past the day care center. We grin like possums. I am looking for the turn into the access road and Wee Lass bursts into “Ants Go Marching One By One”. At this point I am on the verge of tears. Wee Lass has no idea of the effect on me. I pull into the parking space.

As she exits the car, she says cheerfully “Go get your briefcase, Daddy, so you can take it to work.” Thud. My lip is swelling I am biting it so hard. “Okay, baby, I’ll get it.”

And Daddy will struggle to get you settled in, get your things put in your cubby, lunch in the fridge, and that big bear hug before you shut the door to you classroom. Daddy will make it to the car before the first tears trickle down his cheeks, trying to back the car out of the space before anyone sees him. Daddy won’t tell you how he ran from the car and into the house gulping air and trying not to break down. Daddy won’t tell you how he sat on the sofa, sobbing into his hands, bathed in the weak sunlight filtering through the window overlooking the deck. Daddy won’t tell you any of this because he hasn’t figured out how to explain the forgotten briefcase, the missing radio. You are too young for this sort of despair.

All Daddy wants right now is for his beautiful little girl to keep singing, in the voice of that amazing angel fallen to earth just for him.