黄昏时分（3）

    liz laughed nervously. “maybe you should  a video camera. i felt a flutter of anxiety for liz. the next thing i kneer in the seat next to me but standing stiffly onstage beside the piano. mr. hillme, her social-studies teacher and accompanist,  from her face, and lifted the flute to her lips.

    lord, please let her play her best.

    liz took a deep breath and launched into her solo. her fingers danced along the silver keys. the melody4 floated out of the instrument, s myself be carried ahter’s song.

    i forgot about the competition. i forgot about liz’s nervousness at performing in front of her father.

    all at once i pictured my o my nightly accordion practice sessions though he must have yearned for peace and quiet after his long days at the pizza factory. my practical dad, adamantly opposed to any kind of debt, conceding to make payments on a top-of-the-line, full-size accordion ro up our loan, picking out the notes of a sy big band tune and getting the . my unsentimental, over back in his recliner, his burdens chased a his youngest child play his favorite song.

    my dad,  his presence prevented me from playing e that he hadn’t knoht you ht time for you again.

    liz put do at it, but i didn’t have to read it. i just played and let it take me a after liz’s competition, i set out for my 4:30 a.m. shift at the post office. i clicked on my car radio. silence. then instead of kgbx’s soft rock, out of the speakers came the unmistakable brassy sounds of a 1940s-era big band. , though they ht are falling, it’s tht time/out of the mist, your voice is calling, it’s tht time/ht time.”

    tears trickled out of the corners of my eyes. the music of god’s love had bridged the years and the silence bety dad and me at last.</p>

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