Sing Out Loud

We are in the car again, as we often are; the role of chauffeur figures prominently in the job description of a parent. My six-year-old is belting out a post-piano-lesson, impromptu song: “my twist tie can be shaped into a giant BALL and there is a book all about it you can READ it if you want and it talks all about the figures you can MAKE with twist ties because twist ties are so GLORIOUS….”

Well, you get the idea.

It is a loud song, and the volume level is walking the thin red line of okayness. Today has been a good day, however, so it doesn’t bother me. Today I am able to tolerate it by taking deep breaths and letting it happen, because, truth be known, I am slightly envious of her complete and utter reckless abandon to this (yes, slightly obnoxious) song. At her age, singing your heart out can happen anytime, anywhere and in front of anyone. The grownups I know (myself included) have either forgotten what that feels like or been socialized out of it. I wouldn’t mind revisiting that mindset again in a while; but I’m not sure I can remember how.

Listening to the heartbreakingly sweet tone of her singing voice, (liquid honey with a slight helium tinge) I know in my heart that this is one of those moments… where as a parent, I just want everything to slow down, or better yet, to stop altogether, just for a while, to hold onto it, freeze it, preserve it, crystallize it and place it in a bell jar, where it can still be taken down every once in awhile, revisited and enjoyed. But I can’t, and can only watch helplessly as it slips away through my fingers, gone for eternity. I don’t ever want her to lose this level of innocent, unbridled self-expression, and, even more selfishly, I don’t ever want to let go of this present-day, precious reality that is my daughter. So at least for today, I will let her be her uncensored self, without any commentary from me, and let the song remind me of the value and beauty of being completely and unabashedly authentic.,. and really, really loud.


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