Tag: childhood

I used to sing around the schoolyard, tunes from Fred Astaire movies.

Isn’t it a lovely day to be caught in the rain?

I’m stepping out, with mah honey; can’t be bad to feel so good.

Shall we dance? Or keep on moping? Shall we dance, and walk on air? Shall we give in to despair? Or shall we dance with never a care?

It was strange; before then I had never sung out loud, where anyone could hear me. I could sing with the choir, I could sing alone, but never to be heard. So frightened of the sound, my throat would catch up.

At some point later, I stopped singing again. I wonder now if I was happiest then than I have ever been. Why else could I sing?