Scratched

One

ONE

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My love of music started at a young age.

I'd say that the day I first realized all I ever wanted to do was music was when first saw my dad play a song. I know that sounds incredibly unremarkable in every way but that had been it. It hadn't so much been the music or the feeling I had got from listening to him play. It had been the expression on his face. We lived in a world where you could walk by someone everyday of your life and never know what they were really thinking, feeling. But when I watched my dad play for the first time, every thought and feeling was right there for me to see.

When I looked at him his eyes had fallen closed and he had just let go, losing himself in the music. Even in my young perspective it was profound. I didn't understand the true depth of the moment or much about anything then, but it had still had a dramatic affect on me.

It was beautiful.

The idea had struck me even then. We all loved things in this world but how many of us truly gave ourselves to our passions? In a life that was so subdued this moment had rose up in my mind, blazing bright and true. He had been free—free from responsibilities, free from worries, free from everything. I couldn't say anything had affected me more than that thought. It was unlike anything. We lived in a "free" county but how many of us actually felt free?

My life had always been marked by music.

My parents had met at a concert, fell in love listening to music, and even conceived me at a concert. I know it isn't the most romantic beginning but very little beginnings are. I was raised in music, being drug from concert to concert, and when I came home each day it was waiting for me. It would drift out the door, welcoming me like an old friend. This was the life I had grown up in, and all this could be drawn back to one person—my father, Will Evans.

My father had been in a band when he was younger, even up into his thirties. My mother had always written this off as him hanging onto the glory days, but he'd been great. They'd had some snappy little name that I can't even recall now—it was the seventies so who knows. And surprisingly they became popular. They'd had one of the larger groups of followers in our area. You can still find their lyrics online if you look hard enough. One of their biggest hits being Blinded by Despair. So music was in my blood—it was who I was. Even though his band had eventually slipped off he still held music to him. Maybe he should have moved on but he never did, and because of this I grew up with it close by. I wouldn't be who I was today if it hadn't been for his passion for music.

It wasn't just music though.

My father had been a big factor in who I became. Where his band had fallen slightly short on the perpetual side Will Evans had always been a striking person. I can see what my mother saw in him. He was exotic looking with his raven black hair and olive skin. He had never been just another face from the beginning. I had always wished I looked more like him. Where his hair was ebony mine was deep brown—his were graceful waves and mine were thick and wild. Where he was tall—I was short. The only thing I had managed to come away with was his olive complexion. My most striking feature though was the amber eyes I had inherited from my mother.

But even despite that I was never as striking as he was—is. I was a face in a crowd. He was the man standing above them all. He had always intrigued me. No one else could have cut such a deep mark in my life. He was my father—yes—but I esteemed him. I guess all girls probably felt this way about their fathers—a sort of hero worship. He seemed so different in my mind though, but maybe I was just young and foolish.

I can remember when I was very young, four or five, lying in my bed at night with the covers wrapped tightly around me. Everything was completely silent. My mother went out early since she got up at the crack of dawn, but dad never did. He always seemed to be where no one else was. And in that silence sometimes something broke through. I remember the soft music floating through the house, reaching up to meet me. I could never make out the song but it seemed sad, like losing something. It was the most heartbreaking harmony. I'd always wanted to know about it but never asked. I'd always told myself that one day I would ask my father. But we don't always get to plan our lives, and it seemed obvious I was one of those same cases.