Excerpt

Molly was restless tonight. I think another tooth is coming in. I had to sing to her before she would go to sleep. She actually liked my singing. Sweet little girl.

That’s one thing I wish I could do. Sing. I’m not very good. I can carry a tune but that’s about it. Shelley had a beautiful voice. She sang in the school and church choirs. The range of her voice was incredible; it was powerful in its intensity, pulling the listener into the song. The weird thing was that she didn’t really like to sing. She was too shy to enjoy singing in front of people. She did it because she was asked; she hated to disappoint anyone. She would rather have been able to run track. She said she would have traded her voice for the legs and stamina to run a marathon.

Are people ever satisfied with who they are? I’d like to think I am but if I’m really honest with myself -- maybe not. I’ve come to terms with the birthmark on my face and the majority of the time I don’t think about it -- especially when I’m not around mirrors. That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t -- in a second -- have it gone from my face if I could.

It has taught me a lot about people, which is a good thing -- so that’s a plus. It’s also taught me about myself and my willingness to treat people fairly regardless of appearance, occupation, background, faith or any other category that tends to divide humans into neat little groups. I accept people for who and what they are without judgment on their lifestyle in any way. Even in this day and age, people can be very closed-minded. I try very hard not to be. I pride myself on that. So maybe I’m good just the way I am.

I still wish I could sing, though.