Sunday, February 17, 2008

Sing a song of daughters

When my daughter walked out in front of the audience last week at the beginning of her vocal recital, she looked as if she owned the stage. When she opened her mouth, she owned the music. By the time the hour was over, she owned the audience.

How did she do it? Where did all that talent and confidence come from? I'd gladly take the credit, but I can't sing a note, nor can I stand on stage in front of a group of staring people without wanting to hide in the closet. She looked radiant, as if she'd found her rightful place in the universe. Once upon a time she was a five-year-old singing her first duet with her dad in church, and then she became a 10-year-old orphan belting out tunes while tumbling all over the stage in "Annie." Now she's this radiant woman singing art songs and arias in languages I don't understand--but music is universal and her performance makes the meaning clear.

I used to be able to track down my daughter wherever she was just by following the sound of her singing; now she's so far away that I never get to hear her except when she comes home for a visit. But last Thursday, she filled my ears with beautiful music that will ring in my memory for years to come.

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