From whence comes your connection to song?

I grew up in a home filled with music. The upright piano in the living room is central in my childhood memories. My mother played it daily, gathering children in a Pied Piper fashion. Songs year round. 

No need to call my name. The squeak of the piano bench being adjusted, her foot searching out the foot pedal as she readied her posture, or the sound of her lifting the key cover was heard as an invitation for connection and belonging. I remember the anticipation and delight in hearing a new voice blending in with the others, joining on their own volition when their attention could no longer resist the call of the melody.

But my deep connection was born long before my ability to sing along.  I see my young self dancing, with Becky and Trelly as I knew them then, dancing sprite-like to quick scales of high notes. Then a pause. Someone is yelling,  "the giants are coming!"  We are racing to saftey.  I know the giants are imaginary,  but their footsteps are not. The deep, slow chords ignite fear. I see "the big kids" run for cover.  I follow. Where can we hide? Will we all make it? Will there be enough room?

Songs and more songs. Familiar songs. Unfamiliar songs. New songs. Easy songs. Hard to learn songs. 

Start at the end. Repeat last line until voices are confident, then off to work on another line. Want-to-quit songs. One last time. From the top. Lose-your-way moments, but here it comes ... the well practiced familiar ending. Finding my way back to the melody, back to the group, back to belonging. Always ending with a sense of confidence and satisfaction, returning to that now very familiar and easy last line.