Singing…

I think it’s funny that my mother always enjoyed listening to me sing in the car – my kids are always telling me to stop (I think because it embarrasses them) – but she was always happy to listen to me sing either with the radio or whatever occurred to me. Maybe it’s that kind of thing like “…a face only a mother could love,” so that because she loved me she was happy to listen to me sing.

And when I sing in the car it’s usually a happy action on my part – you can’t sing while you’re crying (trust me, I’ve tried, it sounds AWFUL and not at all like singing). Maybe the key word is “action” because I can sing when I am mad or sad. Singing is an active, cathartic, engaging thing for me – something that has power, or resonates in my heart.

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