After she left, I thought about the night Dad had kicked open my bedroom door over a noisy recording.

How different it would have felt if he’d asked whether I could use headphones or finish by ten thirty.

The conflict had not required a humiliation.

I couldn’t undo it, but I could choose another way to deal with frustration in a room where I now set the tone.

That summer we also held a community open house.

Students played songs they’d recorded, Elaine sang a lullaby, and the local theater group demonstrated how sound effects changed a scene.