Sing, Sing, Sing

I always knew I wanted to sing. So I sang. And sang and sang and sang. I drove my brother and sisters crazy with the singing. I got some medals and trophies, though, so it was worth it.

But I couldn’t dance, so I couldn’t be Rita Moreno.

Instead I went to college to major in business, but I kept singing. And I got some more trophies.

After two years I quit school and moved south. I got a job and an apartment. And I kept singing. I got cast in community theater musicals that let me belt solos and harmonize in the chorus. I still couldn’t dance, but that was okay as long as I didn’t audition for A Chorus Line.

Then I joined a jazz band and met Pookie. I met him because I was singing.

After we married and moved to another town I didn’t have a place to sing, so I improvised. I sang with the radio. I’d sing Chewie and Dobby to sleep with love songs instead of lullabies. I sang at a funeral. I sang karaoke at a class reunion.

Along with all that singing, though, I was smoking. I started when I was 17 and didn’t quit until I was 51 (21 months cigarette free, yippee!). Somewhere along the line I quit practicing, too.

And it snuck up on me…I don’t sing any more.

Most of this essay just flowed onto the page, but then it came to a screeching halt. (Seriously, I could hear brakes locking up, flat spotting the tires on the pavement in my brain.) What came next, after some serious reflection, is kinda awesome.

I’m surprisingly okay with it.

Yes, I’ve lost my singing voice, but I can get it back if I work at it.

In the meantime I’ve gained a different voice that means just as much: I’m writing about me and my world, the good stuff and the not so good. I’m telling stories that make people smile and laugh and cry and maybe think a little, too.

And I’m definitely cool with that.

One comment on “Sing, Sing, Sing”

1. The Tiny Trail

   June 15, 2015

   

   Thanks for sharing your new voice!

   LikeLiked by 1 person

   Reply

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