Noah would step through the front door from middle school, drop his canvas backpack by the coat rack, and plug directly into his practice amplifier.

Sometimes he practiced famous riffs from classic rock legends or alternative groups he discovered on streaming channels.

Other times, he spent hours composing completely original melodies that carried a mature, soulful depth.

He would play the exact same four-bar phrase thirty times in a row, pausing to alter a single minor chord before trying again.

Owen occasionally complained about the endless repetition when watching the evening news, but I secretly adored every single note.

There was something truly magical about listening to your child discover his own creative soul through disciplined practice.