The lights turn blue as he looks at me.
My father smiles down at me
As I smile up to him.
I walk up the small stairs,
Holding her hand for grip.
The light hits my ponytail in a pretty way.
The crowd of people make me happy.
It means we must’ve done something right.
He was scared in April.
He didn’t hear back.
He didn’t get the gig.
And then, he did.
I didn’t know that at the time.
The night of my life.