quinta-feira, 11 de março de 2010

summer time

“My dad was a guitar player, and he sang. He knew what he liked about music. He had a great memory, and he could show me things.” Ricky Skaggs

My dad is a man whose music is his passion. He never played instruments like my older brother but his records are like “beija-flor” singing all the time in the living room. My dad is not a fan of sports and he likes to pass more time outside the house looking up and down the street with my dogs than inside using the computer like all the normal dads. My dad and I did not do very much together but there is one thing that stands out.

The first thing I can remember were the trips we went on all the summers to visit my grandma in a small beach in Brazil. That place is really pretty and the ocean always seems blue like the sky. I can remember my mornings walking with my mom and my feet always drowning in the sand. My afternoons were spent eating corn on the beach while my older brother surfed and my younger brother playing in the sand. The corn was sweet and yellow like a “pintinho” sold by an old lady in a shack. But the thing I hated was my nights always watching “novellas” with my grandma. Still, I miss that place; I miss my satisfying summers with my family and friends.

My dad always drove us to the beach. We passed the time listening to music and singing songs together. I can tell, my dad is a horrible singer. He’s voice sounds more like an old and broken vinyl record. Maybe that’s why I have fun when we sing together. We had one special song we sang all the time and it’s weird because is not from an old band like The Beatles or Rolling Stones which you would expect from an old man like my dad. The music we sang was from the band Mxpx. When I hear that band I definitely remember my dad and the trip moments.

Two hours driving to my grandma’s house in summer, the breeze was in my hair, the song in my ears and voice of my dad at my left side. That was all my child summer. I can remember some day me and my dad talking about:

“We’re almost there” my dad told me.
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t want get there” I said kind of sadly.
“Really? Why do you don’t want to go to your grandma’s house?” my dad asked me surprised.
“Well, I want to go, but I don’t want get out of the car. I have more fun here in a car with you.” I looked at my dad and he was smiling.

I was just ten years old when I said that. I was innocent and sweet for my dad. But I remember I was a strong child; I didn’t cry a lot when I was child and I didn’t cry at that moment.

My dad and I never talked a lot. If we were sitting in a car with out music there would be an total silence. But the music unites us. We don’t have subjects to talk about, but if we have music, there was a union between us.

When I was child I never thought about that. I never thought one day my dad would miss me or I would miss my dad. I never thought how important he is to me.

I’m grown up, now I can see how my dad is important in my life and how he was important to teach me music and the songs he likes. I just want to go back to my ten year old self and tell him how driving in a car for two hours with music makes me so happy.