“…See there’s this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It’s the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me.”
Today’s story is contributed by Skylar Harrison.
My father and I shared the same musical taste and, as it turns out, much more.
“Chickity China the Chinese chicken / you have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin’ / Watching X-Files with no lights on …”
I freeze. I look toward my father, hoping he knows the next line, but he’s stuck, too.
“One more time?” he asks. I nod as he presses replay on the car stereo.
A big breath in and … “It’s been one week since you looked at me / cocked your head to the side and said ‘I’m angry,'” we sing in unison.
I’m nine years old, and we’re parked outside Baskin-Robbins because we’ve promised each other we won’t go inside until we nail this last Barenaked Ladies verse. I can’t remember if we ever actually figured it out, or if we even got the ice cream, but what I do remember is: That moment and that music were ours. READ MORE