In My Car

I always wished that I could sing. Having a voice and not being able to hold a note is like having wings and not being able to fly. I open my mouth to sing but the sound falls flat, souring the melody, and embarrassing me. When I was a little kid I used to lip sync to all my favorite songs. But back then my voice was a high pitched child’s voice that warbled with inexperience, which left me with the hope that I would eventually grow up and get my real voice…my pretty voice. I’m still lip syncing. In church I mouth most of the hymns; I’m sure God appreciates the break.

It amazes me how many people think that they can sing. They open their mouths and let their screechy voices fly causing those standing within earshot to move back, block their ears, and roll their eyes with irritation. I’m not saying that you need to have a great voice to sing, I’m only saying that you should have a great voice if you plan on singing loudly.

I often wonder how talents are given out. Does God decide ahead of time to bless certain people with certain skills, or do you stand in the line of the talent of your choice. Does that work with physical attributes too? Or is the whole process of acquiring talent, beauty and brains random, like the lottery, with the lucky ones hitting pay dirt while the rest of us make due?

My mother had a lovely voice and used to sing to me all the time. Now that I mention it I don’t recall my mother encouraging me to join in, and I often wondered what she meant when she said, “don’t quit your day job honey,” when I did sing along with her. I guess singing must skip a generation.

So now the only time I attempt a solo is in my car with the music blasting louder than my vocal range. I sing like a diva in the spot-light on my imaginary stage, dazzling my make-believe fans, and causing all who know me to stand in awe at my amazing talent; except, of course, for the people sitting in the car next to me. They lock their doors and inch forward.