Musically Inclined

Everyone in my family has a magical musical gift, specifically their own, mind you. Everyone, that is, except me.

Family gatherings were always joyous, warm events. We would sit down say grace and eat together as one unified entity. If the event called for gifts, we would open them after dinner. If no gifts were present we would play games after our feast. Once games were over we would all congregate in the living room and make music.

My Aunt Linda had the most amazing voice I have ever heard. When she sang chill bumps popped up on my arms and the hair on the back of my neck would stand up on end. My brother would usually sit at the piano, my mother and father would sit side-by-side guitars in their hands. My cousins would stand, jumping around with their tambourines and my uncles would be scattered around holding their harmonicas. I would sit, usually near to my parents, smiling and waiting for them to begin.

I couldn't play any instruments, not yet anyway, and my voice left much to be desired. So my greatest contribution was to sit and listen. Every once in a while I would get a song request in, when I did I always requested the same song; Puff the Magic Dragon. My eyes would tear up when my father would near the end of the song. I couldn't understand why Jackie Paper had to grow up. I would vow silently to myself that I would never grow up.

Now looking back, as the forbidden grown-up I've become, I still remember that song fondly. It reminds me of the warmth and safety of family. It reminds me of how it felt to never want to grow up, but mostly it reminds me of that small part inside me that never did.