I wrote a lullaby today. I thought it was going to be horrible. Or at least mediocre. I got to sing it on top of tones made by the rest of the folks in the voice movement therapy workshop I am taking, and it was actually lovely. Words were set, tune was improvised.
Tonight in the tub I remembered the solo I sang in our school play when I was 9 or so.
The chorus goes: “We see from all the things that live, the earth is happy when we give, from grass below to sky above, the earth rejoices when we love.” It made me cry. I did a lot of singing when I was younger. And I still do a lot, but somewhere along the way, I lost the idea that my voice could be called lovely and that people might enjoy listening to it. Over the past year or two, I have been finding it again. My voice, and that lovely idea.