Why I Sing
Chaeley Winkler
I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t singing. Of course, I know there was time before I could speak or burble as infants do, so there must have existed a certain silence before sound, however the mere thought of being so silent—unable to reach out with voice or touch—disturbs me to no end. But these thoughts of a time before sound hadn’t quite crossed my mind until I began to question the finer, tinier oddities in my life. These questions emerged at around the age of seven, before they had manifested as inner thoughts. Although time has worn down these memories, there are still some that hold their image well, chief being the drive home from a Christmas musical.
My brother and I were wrapped in beach towels in the back seat while my father drove and held my mother’s hand. The play had let out late into the night, and I was struggling to stay awake to the sound of a dull talk show host. Had I not been searching for anything to help me stay awake, I most likely wouldn’t have noticed my mother wiping away tears. …show more content…
The longer I thought about it, the more I realized that not a single person at the performance had done this, which begged the question, why would my mother get misty over a Christmas play?
I had always grown up with the fact that my mother, no matter how she tried, couldn’t sing, and in her attempts to be strong, she had never given any indication of how—or that it did—affect
Chaeley Winkler
I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t singing. Of course, I know there was time before I could speak or burble as infants do, so there must have existed a certain silence before sound, however the mere thought of being so silent—unable to reach out with voice or touch—disturbs me to no end. But these thoughts of a time before sound hadn’t quite crossed my mind until I began to question the finer, tinier oddities in my life. These questions emerged at around the age of seven, before they had manifested as inner thoughts. Although time has worn down these memories, there are still some that hold their image well, chief being the drive home from a Christmas musical.
My brother and I were wrapped in beach towels in the back seat while my father drove and held my mother’s hand. The play had let out late into the night, and I was struggling to stay awake to the sound of a dull talk show host. Had I not been searching for anything to help me stay awake, I most likely wouldn’t have noticed my mother wiping away tears. …show more content…
The longer I thought about it, the more I realized that not a single person at the performance had done this, which begged the question, why would my mother get misty over a Christmas play?
I had always grown up with the fact that my mother, no matter how she tried, couldn’t sing, and in her attempts to be strong, she had never given any indication of how—or that it did—affect