That’s all I could hear. Not the cheering crowds. Not even the first blasts of her guitar.
My hand shot up, and I waved back. My chest never stuck out so far!
Daddy? Yep, that’s me!
World, this is my baby girl!
I’m so proud of you sweetie!
I’ve heard her sing that song on the front steps, on the hood of the car, and a half dozen other places, but it never sounded as good as up on that stage. Each note was perfect; each guitar strum added its voice in perfect harmony.
Yesterday was the local festival of festivals down at the waterfront. They call it “whaling days”, but from the sounds of some of the other talent show contestants, it might have been better labeled “wailing daze”. Anthony Haung (spelling) would have been proud. I thought a pincher bug had crawled up one contestant’s pant leg. Those screeches could not be human... Not without the help of strategically placed electrodes. Hmmm?
My 23 year old baby girl gave the performance of performances. She dazzled the crowd. She dazzled Dad. She dazzled the judges, but not enough to win. Bummer. Hey, she beat out a few hundred other contestants to make the cut. That’s not bad!
You did good honey!
You made daddy proud!