My Father’s Harmonica

My father liked to play the harmonica when he was in a good mood, especially after he’d had a few postprandial drinks.
 
I imagine my father was in his early teens when he was given his first harmonica. By the time I was old enough to recognize a harmonica when I saw one, he was quite good—at least I thought so. He’d play chords on one side of the harmonica and the melody on the other. Sometimes he’d hold two harmonicas, one above the other, and move from one to the other as he played.
 
One night, when my sister and I lay in bed talking into the night, Dad came into the room and told us to go to sleep—tomorrow’s a school day. I told him we’re not sleepy yet. Well then, he said, I’ll bring my harmonica and play some lullabies to make you feel sleepy. As if! Ignoring our protests, he sat on a chair between our beds and played several tunes. If my memory is correct, it didn’t work, but we did stop talking.
 
My father is no longer with us—he’s gone to join the angels. I imagine him up there playing his celestial harmonica, entertaining his pals in heaven.
 
I still have one of his harmonicas. It’s a cheap and simple instrument with Yamaha engraved on the top. It may even be his very first harmonica. I like to think so.