He was surprised by my question given that I have never played in front of him let alone anywhere but behind my closed door to my room, so naturally this came to a shock for him. With it nearly sundown, we grab our guitars and head out to the backyard. I remember that moment to this day and can confidently say that was one of my favorite days. I could see the excitement in his facial expression. He was finally going to duet with his little girl. However, I was a ball of nerves knowing I would be playing in front of my parents and for that matter, our neighbors as well. I sat comfortably in my usual chair, which brought me some sort of calm and reassurance, and tuning my already tuned guitar only to stall. I gave my dad one last glance that asked “ready?” and then I strummed freely. My left hand flying across the frets going from A chord, to C chord to E, making a mellifluous, flowing sound as my right hand strummed the strings of the guitar in a rhythmic pattern. Up, down, down, Up, down, down…My father soloed over my music by plucking chords to follow my tempo and sound. I remember thinking that we sounded like something you would hear on a artists album playing Spanish music, yet it felt so effortless. I continued playing, letting the music literally poor out of me as if it was seeping through my very pores. It was the first time I felt one with the guitar and the music. We played our music as the summer sky changed from a pink and orange to the bluest of night sky, all illuminated with nothing but the stars and the fire in front of