From my window where my desk sits, I watched this evening as Julia walked the sidewalk back and forth. She’d reach the corner and turn back like a painted yellow duck in a shooting gallery. Though I couldn’t hear her, I knew what she was doing.
Following in my footsteps.
Julia sang. Sang her little 8 year old heart out. I’m sure if someone saw her walking that way, singing to the birds, they’d think she was nutty. But I know better.
She sings because she can’t help it. She sings because she loves to string notes together in melody. She sings because she’s carefree. And I love her for it.