All My Mistakes

Dirt to my elbows, shovel in hand, I dig another hole and melt into the song drifting from the outdoor speakers.

My 8 year old daughter stands above me, fists on her hips, watching. “Can we listen to something better, please?”

I bury the petunia in my flower bed and sit back on my heels. “Just listen to the lyrics of this last song, then you can run along.” To fill her head with Basshunter, Selena Gomez, and other uninspiring crap.

She lets out dramatic exhale, but doesn’t move.

My favoriteThe Av...