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A rebellion, a tempest, a primal surge
Against your restraints, I stand tall
Breaking through, I won’t fall
No more submission to your invasive reign
I’ll stand tall, breaking free from the pain
The fire within, a burning core
In the chaos, I’ll find something more
I defy your control
Rising from the depths of my soul
In the furnace of my rage, I forge
A rebellion, a tempest, a primal surge
No longer shackled, I break free
In this symphony of rebellion, I find me
Hey, fucker, do you know who you are
Nothing. Not even a scar’
Breathing heavily, I finally ended the song, slowly uncurling my hands from the microphone. My fingers ached with how hard I had been gripping it. The crowd clapped and cheered, flooding me with excitement, my face feeling hot and flushed. I turned back, expecting my dad to no longer be there. That seeing him had only been my imagination, something I had done so often in the past.
But he was still there. Still holding that bouquet. He was breathing a bit heavily too, like he had been jumping around with me while I sang—something he always did when I performed. He always acted like he was right there performing with me during my concerts as a child. Nearly every performance back then had me almost in fits of giggles because of his air guitar performances.
I waved at the crowd and went to him, my feet moving me a little faster than I’d expected.
Then I was wrapped in his arms, his scent; his very presence made me feel like I was a little girl again with her daddy.
Only then did it feel real that he was there. My dad was at one of my performances and finally heard me sing. My voice finally reached him, something I’d been trying to achieve for nearly eight years.
I broke and cried.
“Cadence,” he whispered. “You did such an amazing job.”
“What are you doing here?” My voice cracked.
“My friend told me about it. You should have told me so I knew to be here.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” I admitted.
“Oh, Cadie. This is exactly where I want to be. Every. Single. Time.”
I cried harder as he rubbed my back and murmured soft words of support. We swayed slightly.
“I am so proud of you. Of who you became, of your talents. You’re so strong.”
“Thank you.” I finally pulled away from his warmth, still a sniffling mess, but at least I wasn’t bawling my eyes out anymore.
“Come on,” he said. “The others saved us seats.”
