I just finished downloading my music for my chorus, which resumes next week. It makes me happy just thinking about singing with the group again. Yesterday, when my foster granddaughter was over, I sang her a song I learned on my own this summer, and then she sang a long song partially made up but sounding like Taylor Swift or some country singer. We were coloring and singing at the same time. We were our own quilting bee. She's having a hard time with her long days in kindergarten, and she wanted to do everything we used to do before. She wanted comfort. And the best I can offer is singing.
Her little five year old life is so complicated, and I have no idea what her issues are, but I can at least respect that they are as deep as my own, and maybe harder, because she hasn't enough experience under her belt to detach and know she won't feel this way forever. And if I remember correctly, time can sure drag. At my advanced stage of life, time whirls by and I wait for nothing. The next thing comes faster than I can keep up. But for her, the week is long, the birthday party far away, the time mommy picks her up so distant as to seem never to come.
We're in a rush to grow up, and then to get that job, have that relationship, have kids, buy a house, win the award. And when we begin to want it to all slow down, it rushes up and over us like a wave bound for shore. A bit of irony, and one can only grin and bear it.
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