Yearning.

I am filled with yearning.

I have always enjoyed my time commuting. First, it was just 10 minutes in the morning and 20 minutes in the afternoon to and from high school (Traffic on the way back, all the seniors leaving the school at once. That school parking lot was always crazy jammed up). I drove around town in my little red car feeling young and free and – oh, wait, no, I was in high school. I felt angsty and angry and frustrated. But when I turned on the radio and sang to my favorite songs, everything else seemed to slip away. It was a small moment of peace.

Then college. I was still living at home, commuting to a state school about 40 minutes away according to Google Maps, but about 15 minutes away if I caught traffic at the right time and sped up RT3 like Hell on Wheels. I did that every morning. I listened to music, any music – Reba McIntire, Martina McBride, Joss Stone, Dashboard Confessional, Dispatch, Incubus, Staind – anything I could sing along to. I was a music student. I felt it was my right. I cried when I hit a pothole so bad my radio fell out of my dashboard because it meant I had nothing to sing along to.

Then a real job, and a baby. I drove slower, the music was softer. I stopped singing for a while. I don’t know why. You’d think, that with music being such a strong influence in my life, being a music student at a local college – you’d think I’d sing my baby to sleep every night.  I didn’t. I felt embaressed. I feel stupid about it now. I wish I’d sung to her. I drove my baby to my mother’s every day and then went off to work. I sang loudly on my way to work after dropping Cupcake off. Those were some of the best parts of my days. A chance to forget everything that bothered me.

Now another real job, and two babies. I still don’t sing to them every night, but sometimes I’ll hum a little tune. Now I’ll sing along to Backyardigans and Phineas and Ferb, and Cupcake asks me to sing the songs that are on the radio, even the ones I don’t know. She wants me to sing so that she can sing with me. She wants to follow my lead.  I am commuting with my husband now, so I don’t sing as loudly. I don’t sing as often. I love going to the store alone because it means a chance to sing, unprofessionally, improperly, just pure emotion. Just sing.

I am filled with yearning.

I want to be on a stage again. I still remember playing Meg in Damn Yankees in high school. It was such a rush. I remember singing during the Spring Sing event, a solo during a choir concert. I remember performing in college. I remember feeling important, sparkly, talented. I remember dancing and singing and delivering lines, my body seemed so light. I felt electrified. I remember blood pounding in my ears at the curtain close. I remember taking a bow. I remember dancing and screaming and celebrating as soon as that curtain hit the stage again, the sound of applause almost distant beyond the congratulatory calls and whistles of my fellow castmembers.

I am filled with yearning.