Do you ever wish you were something you're not?
Dumb question, I know. I think we all go through a moment of wishful thinking one time or another.
There are two things I've wished for since I was a little girl and neither one of them I can do, as in, at all, very well. I wish I could sing. Not just carry a tune in a bucket, but all out, sound like an angel kind of sing. Also, I wish a could dance. God blessed me with two left feet and a skewed sense of rhythm. Regardless, I still dream.
Why? Why would I want to raise my voice to heaven and dance with graceful fire over the earth?
I can barely explain it. Sometimes I have a heart so full, it feels like the only way I can express what is bursting at the seams is to belt it out in full voice. Some singers have voices that can make the hardest human cry. They are just that beautiful. The beauty I've seen in life, in my children, in what I see in the people I know makes me wish I had a voice that would shake a mountain. I have the words, the melody and the heart, yet my warble couldn't move a pebble. It's discouraging.
When I cannot sing, I wish I could move. Movement full of grace and poise. I laugh in writing that because I am 5 feet tall, uncoordinated and grace fully eludes me. How would it be to rise to your feet and make the world gasp? In my head I can spin, leap and bend with effortless floating beauty.
There is that word again: beauty.
I am fully convinced that beauty is not visual. Beauty is felt. It shines, radiates, comforts, graces and brightens. Beauty is not genetic. Beauty pricks my heart, burns into my soul and changes me.
I knew an incredibly beautiful woman. She died today. She was missing teeth, a leg and a few fingers, but she was definitely beautiful. For her, I wish I could sing. For her, I wish I could dance. My only consolation is that, now, she might be dancing and singing for me.
Thank you Iva.