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This morning, daughter will sing a solo at her school. She has a beautiful voice, but it has taken awhile for her to feel comfortable enough to be up front, alone. We have tried to encourage her. To be ok, to celebrate even. Just her voice.
I think of growing up and how scared I was to really hear my own voice. It was so much easier to hide in my room and write poetry than to speak my truth. I could go on a long time about all the reasons for this; historical, crazy family stuff combined with intrinsic personality traits. Sort of the family cocktail.
But really, blame will not help me. It is certainly tempting to pick up on blame, like a drug, it has its aspect of pain relief. It is compelling in its own way. It is what it is. It was what it was. The family I came from combined with my ummm, sensitive personality had a certain affect. Good things also came out of this affect. My writing came out of this affect.
Today I will sit on a gym floor and listen to my 11-year-old daughters voice ring out to her classmates.
This is her gift. This is her moment. I am paying attention.
To link to this blog from blog posts/comments, use [blog violet915], from anywhere else use http://personals.techtv.com/blog/violet915,
and to read it remotely use the feed.
