黄昏时分（3）（2/2）
《穿过爱的时光》作者：杨柳青 2017-01-24 02:12
in his recliner, his burdens chased away by tears of joy at hearing his youngest child play his favorite song.
My dad, who must have felt so awful knowing his presence prevented me from playing well onstage that he hadn’t known what to say or do to comfort me—except to stay away and not upset me at my subsequent5 competitions. Dad, I’m sorry I thought you were disappointed in me. I know you loved me even more than you loved music. I wish you could know how much I love you too. I wish I could play Twilight Time for you again.
Liz put down her flute and took a bow to thunderous applause (well, thunderous to a proud mother, anyway). “Mom, I didn’t even see the music,” Liz exclaimed in the car on the way home. “I mean, I was looking at it, but I didn’t have to read it. I just played and let it take me away.” I knew what she meant.
Monday morning 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. Where did this station come from?
A woman’s smoky contralto crooned words I’d never heard sung, though they were printed on the tattered sheet music in my old accordion case. “Heavenly shades of night are falling, it’s twilight time/Out of the mist, your voice is calling, it’s twilight time/When purple-colored curtains mark the end of day/I’ll hear you, my dear, at twilight time.”
Tears trickled out of the corners of my eyes. The music of God’s love had bridged the years and the silence between my dad and me at last.
My dad, who must have felt so awful knowing his presence prevented me from playing well onstage that he hadn’t known what to say or do to comfort me—except to stay away and not upset me at my subsequent5 competitions. Dad, I’m sorry I thought you were disappointed in me. I know you loved me even more than you loved music. I wish you could know how much I love you too. I wish I could play Twilight Time for you again.
Liz put down her flute and took a bow to thunderous applause (well, thunderous to a proud mother, anyway). “Mom, I didn’t even see the music,” Liz exclaimed in the car on the way home. “I mean, I was looking at it, but I didn’t have to read it. I just played and let it take me away.” I knew what she meant.
Monday morning 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. Where did this station come from?
A woman’s smoky contralto crooned words I’d never heard sung, though they were printed on the tattered sheet music in my old accordion case. “Heavenly shades of night are falling, it’s twilight time/Out of the mist, your voice is calling, it’s twilight time/When purple-colored curtains mark the end of day/I’ll hear you, my dear, at twilight time.”
Tears trickled out of the corners of my eyes. The music of God’s love had bridged the years and the silence between my dad and me at last.