I’ve lost my voice. Not my speaking voice, upon which, in my life’s vocation, I continue to rely, but my singing voice.
Nurtured, from my earliest years, at my mother’s knee as she sat at the piano teaching me how to follow the rise and fall of musical notes on the page. Then to match my voice in pitch. Then to add words; listening to them take flight, feeling them take on new meaning down to my very bones. Then, my voice better at blending than standing out and above other voices, joining choirs.
Now, in my aging, I no longer can sing in a way that is pleasing to my ear (whether in or out of the shower!). I’ve lost my voice.
Nevertheless, as a life-long melophile, I rejoice that I can continue to listen to others who, in singing, wing their words to abide in the nest of my heart at greater speed and depth than can any (including my own) spoken tongue.
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