"Dear Dad, Thank You For My Music Taste" by Sadie Mae Laprade

It all started with you playing The Beatles. I was instantly hooked, I was that one 21st-century kid who loved The Beatles instead of One Direction. You would turn it on the radio and we would listen, you would turn it on in the car and we would sing along, you would play it by CD in the living room and we would dance. That was when I was little though; when I could stand on your feet stepping to the rhythm with you before you would pick me up and fly me around the room. All the while we listened and laughed……

Then I guess I got older, and I decided that I was too old to twirl and twist while listening to your music— I exclaimed that I needed my own music taste. You know, to make me a real individual. 

I listened to everything but The Beatles. And as age proceeded me, I resented John, Paul, George, and even Ringo because they reminded me of you. They remind me of a time when I wasn’t capable of even noticing your actions, they remind me of a time I didn't abhor you.

Even if I tried we couldn't dance to “twist and shout” anymore, you were tired and conceded: I was determined to be nothing like you. It’s hard to dance together when that’s the dynamic.

But then I realized— after all— I could learn to dance again. And when I’m off at college I’ll listen to the Beatles with a found whistle and skip to my step. I’ll listen to them and silently thank my old man for my music taste.