I had a father for a song

The music
reminds
me of the
one good
memory
I have of
you.
Your love
of music
was the one
thing
I have left
of you.
I can listen
to anything
and it
reminds
me of
being a little
girl.
You should
not have
been
a father.
I do not
say this
because
you made
mistakes.
I say this
because
you
were
selfish,
mean
and abusive.
I turned
out so powerful.
I had your
power
and strength
mine was
just full
of kindness.
Yours,
full of
hate
and anger.
But not when
you listened
to music.
It soothed
you like
a wild
beast.
So music
in our home
saved us.
Saved us
from broken
words
and broken
bones.
When I
want that
one good
memory
of you
I close my eyes
and can
see us
sitting in front
of our wooden
stereo.
It held
the records
on the side
and the speakers
opened
with a gentle
push of the
wooden
slate.
You would
smile
and close
your eyes
and be transported
to another
place.
A happy
place as long
as the music
played.
I was in charge
of changing the
records.
I loved doing
this.
It was the only
time you
smiled
at me.
You usually
would never
say anything.
Once in
awhile
you would
talk about
the bass
in a song.
Or the
words in a
chorus.
I was mesmerized.
For a moment,
For a song
I had a father.
A father
that did not
yell,
Throw or
break things.
I had a
father
that smiled.
If only for
just a couple
songs.
This is how
a father
could be.
Calm.
Until
the record
stopped.