My Daughter's First Concert

I took my daughter, Ivy, to her first real concert when she turned eleven: a pop singer she adores, at a big arena two hours away. I had very low expectations for my own enjoyment.

I was wrong. From the first song, Ivy screamed every word, jumped up and down in her light-up sneakers, and grabbed my arm during the slow ballad as if her heart would burst. Around us were thousands of kids and parents doing the exact same thing.

At one point the singer asked everyone to turn on their phone flashlights. The whole arena lit up like a galaxy. Ivy looked up at me with her mouth open, and I knew I'd remember that face forever.

We drove home at midnight, eating fries from a drive-through, her voice completely gone, still trying to sing. I don't know any of the songs. I've been humming them all week.