Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Rock Around the Clock
We used to get along really well. I loved sitting by his side while he read the newspaper. We’d go for walks and he’d push me on the swings at the park. That was when I was young. Now that I’m older and more mature (I’m 15 after all!) we don’t seem to get along as well as we used to. He’s always hollering at me to turn down my music, go change my clothes, clean up my room. I wish he was cool like Mom. She understands me a lot better.
Why doesn’t she listen to me? What happened to my sweet, young daughter; the one who adored me and hung on my every word? She’s been replaced by a defiant, eye-rolling, argumentative girl who seems to thrive on noise and chaos. I love her dearly but I sure don’t understand her. Her mother seems to “get her”. Why is that? Why can’t I understand the changes in my daughter? I’m beginning to wish we hadn’t bought her that record player for Christmas. Ever since then, my ears have been accosted by her loud “music”. Rock Around the Clock? Certainly seems like that around here. Why doesn’t she ever play that Bing Crosby record we gave her with the record player?
As he walked in the front door after a long day at the office, he could hear the music blaring. “That’s it!” he thought. “This will stop right now! She’s grounded. That lousy record player is MINE!”
He stormed up the stairs and threw open his daughter’s bedroom door, determined to let her have it once and for all. He stood transfixed, a look of horror and disbelief on his face. For there she was, gyrating and twirling; the music so loud that she didn’t even hear the door bang against the wall.
There she was…his wife.