I Love My Son
Sitting on the couch, nursing a cold, I hear my phone ping my "text" ping. I look and an instant smile. It's a text from Stinky. He got that first real coaching job, albeit at a Division 2 school, 600 miles away. I'm proud of him. He's living his dream and willing to sacrifice things so many people wouldn't. He will win in the long run.
"At a bar and "You Can Call Me Al" is on. What a f*&%ing great song, music video, album this is. This is another cleaning the apartment at Hinchman on Saturday with it blasting. This, Andre Bochelli and Meatloaf. Paradise by the Dashboard Lights is another... you vacuuming and Dad's toe going. Thank you for raising me on this shit."
I laughed aloud as I responded how glad I am that he has happy memories. He was 16 when his Dad died but the music never dies. It brings us back, binding us forever. A melody can bring smiles or tears but always reminds us of where we came from and who we are.
"At a bar and "You Can Call Me Al" is on. What a f*&%ing great song, music video, album this is. This is another cleaning the apartment at Hinchman on Saturday with it blasting. This, Andre Bochelli and Meatloaf. Paradise by the Dashboard Lights is another... you vacuuming and Dad's toe going. Thank you for raising me on this shit."
I laughed aloud as I responded how glad I am that he has happy memories. He was 16 when his Dad died but the music never dies. It brings us back, binding us forever. A melody can bring smiles or tears but always reminds us of where we came from and who we are.
