Page 1 of Cowboy's Melody
Brooks
“Daddy! I said come here!”
Immediately, I stop what I’m doing because I recognize the impatient tone of my demanding daughter Logan, and I know if I don’t heed her warning, I’m in big trouble.
Slowly, I make my way to the living room where Logan is standing on the coffee table, dressed in a furry blue monster onesie. The hood is up and covers half her face.
“Daddy! What do you think you’re doing?” She stamps her foot and places her hands on her tiny hips.
“Sorry, peanut,” I tell her. “What’s up?”
She scoffs. “I can’t believe you forgot! It’s monster karaoke night!”
Oh shit…
She stomps her foot again and points toward my acoustic guitar sitting on its stand. “Play my song, daddy!”
“Okay, but you have to get down from that table before you break your neck.” I reach up and help her down before making my way over to the corner of the room and pick up my guitar. I drag my fingers along the strings and listen carefully before tuning it just a bit.
“DADDY!”
My head snaps up. “Now what, peanut?”
She crosses her arms and pouts. “You’re not wearing your onesie.”
My head drops. “Cut me some slack, okay, Logan? It’s been a long day and daddy is tired. Can I wear it another time?”
“No, absolutely not. You have to wear it tonight and if you don’t put it on right now, then I’ll be sad for the rest of the night. I’ll probably even cry.”
And sure as shit, actual tears start to stream down her cheeks. Son of a bitch, how did an eight-year-old learn to cry on demand? One glance at the television and I have my answer. The Disney Channel.
“Okay, I’ll go put it on.”
I set the guitar back on its stand and reluctantly head to my bedroom where I know a furry bright green onesie is waiting for me. Logan’s been talking about monster karaoke since she watched some movie about an all monster girl group. I strip off the grimy clothes and toss them in the hamper next to my bed. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and even though I don’t mean to, I can’t help but look for the scars.
They’ve faded over time but they’re still there, constant reminders of the worst night of my life.
I shake off the memories before they even come and zip myself into the outfit. I look ridiculous but there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for the little girl waiting for me.
“How do I look?” I announce as I re-enter the living room, holding out my arms and spinning.
Her sweet little giggle is music to my ears. “You look so funny, daddy!” She claps her hands and runs to my guitar. “Now play!”
I pick it up and strum it, letting the rich tones fill the air. “What do you want first?”
She places her finger on her lips and taps it a few times before she starts to sing, “I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road!”
I laugh and strum along, filling in the words she doesn’t know. She hops around the living room singing and clapping and I follow her. It’s like a reverse Pied Piper.
We spend the next hour making it through a set list of all her favorite songs. Taylor Swift, Post Malone, “rock ‘n’ roll” Eagles and my personal favorite, James Taylor.
“Okay, peanut, last song. What’ll it be?”
“Sing that Teddi Wilde song for me.”
I sit down on the couch and pat the empty space beside me. “I can’t sing it without you.”
She clambers onto the couch and nods when she’s ready. I begin singing the song she loves so much, about a woman leaving home for the first time, getting ready to explore the world but she misses her momma. My heart clenches every time she makes me sing it because she has no idea what it truly means to miss your mother. Logan never knew hers and whenever we sing this song, my heart breaks because she never will. Thankfully, the song ends on a hopeful note and I turn my head before she notices the few stray tears traveling down my cheeks.
