Posted by: Brenda Kula | January 8, 2008

Sing And Be Happy

I find myself singing in the garden. Truth be told, I find myself singing lots of places. It’s not that I have a good voice. I don’t. I guess it is just soothing to me somehow.

When I go out the back gate for some reason and the dogs get antsy inside the fence because they can’t see me, I sing some little ditty so they’ll be able to hear me and realize I’m still close by. It means less barking.

I sing Christmas songs at the wrong time of year. I sing children’s lullabies I didn’t even realize I knew. I sing or hum while I’m listening to an interview on NPR. I’m also a big hummer, come to find out. My husband was the one who told me I did that. I never even realized it, it was so obviously second nature.

I don’t recall anyone ever singing to me. It’s just something I picked up along the way. I think I’m a bit young for dementia. But I have the good sense to be embarrassed when I’m heading out the gate and happen to look up and see someone walking their dog down the street. They look at me in this odd, quizzical sort of way. And I realize I’m singing some stupid thing I’ve made up. I must look silly. I cut the singing off mid-sentence and duck my head and hurry back inside the fence to my gardens. My sanctuary. No telling what they think of me, that crazy woman on the corner who sings while she tidies up the yard.

I remember my children making up little songs about whatever they happened to be doing when they were small. It seemed to calm them, in a hypnotic sort of way, and they were such happy little girls. So I guess maybe that’s where I got this ridiculous habit of mine.

Whatever the reason, I shall go singing and humming along my merry way. To hell with what people think.   

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