Music

I wish I could sing. I love to sing, and partake in this guilty pleasure often, but I just can't carry a tune. I wish I had one of those clear, sweet, pretty singing voices. There's a movie, The Namesake, which is a movie I really love. In it, the mother (Indian actress/singer, Tabu) is a singer. Oh, what a sweet voice she has. Her voice bows my head and closes my eyes and I appreciate song on a cellular level.

I've always been a musician, in spite of my lack of singing skills. I played french horn, trumpet, and piano quite well, and dabbled in other various instruments. I practiced hard, but didn't need to. I majored in music in college, playing french horn and piano. After college... I just abandoned my love for playing music. Life took me down a different path, and there wasn't any room to drag my piano down it.

I've gotten so rusty. Once in a while, I'll play from memory a tune on the piano in my parents' basement. I haven't picked up my french horn in about seven years. I know that if I took the time, I could eventually call myself a pianist or a hornist again.

So why don't I? If I miss it so much, what's stopping me from picking it back up? I have the time, certainly, and the desire. I'm ashamed, that's why. Blessed with a talent I didn't appreciate until I threw it away, I now realize how shameful that act was.

I still love listening to music. Nothing beats Bob Marley on a sunny afternoon, or Etta James with a glass of wine. Billy Joel in the car, Simon & Garfunkel in a waiting room on my iPod, or the Dixie Chicks when I'm feeling especially sassy. As long as I know there are other people out there who embrace their talent and share it with the world, I'll take that, greedily.

Someday I'll get back to playing, when the music calls me... when I can bow my head and let my eyes close and let the music back in.