Lullaby

There’s a song I like. Well no, not like. Love actually. It’s a lullaby. If I can remember how it goes I’m going to hum it for the babies. I won’t sing the words, they wouldn’t understand, just the tune, the melody. It’s real sweet. I wish I could remember it. I only know that it’s sweet. Daddy, I mean Dad, used to sing it for me but I forgot the words and the notes, I only remember his smile. I wish he’d sing it for me again sometime. You know, just so I can remember it. Not that I care to be sung lullabies anymore. But I hate asking him for anything these days. He always says no. He won’t let me listen to what I want to listen to anymore. It’s funny because I used to only want to listen to him. Anyways, I want to go to Kim’s birthday party because I know they’re going to be playing this great music and playing it loud, I mean real loud, loud enough to feel it in your bones you know? Daddy, I mean Dad, is afraid to let me go because he’s not so sure I should be listening to that kind of music. Really, he’s just afraid of me hearing it real loud, in my bones kind of loud. But he’s contradicting himself at best and being a hypocrite about it at worst, because I caught him the other day, driving home from work. He pulled into the garage and he was playing one of those great songs real loud, the whole house was shaking, and when he saw me he just looked up at me and smiled, just like he used to smile when he sang me that lullaby.