What a difference a day makes
Twenty-four little hours
Brought the sun and the flowers
Where there used to be rain
My mother used to sing it as she did her housework. It made me happy to hear my mother sing. She could actually carry a tune, too. And so could all of her siblings. I used to like nothing better than being at my grandmother’s house on a Saturday night when my uncles and aunts got together with their guitars and sang for hours. There was always lots of laughter, food and fun! After I was married and had a family of my own, I’d take my children for visits to my grandmother’s, too. That was many years ago, but their eyes still sparkle when they reminisce about those family song fests. Experiences that bring that much happiness live in the memory forever! Thankfully, the miserable ones seem to dim with the passing of time.
But, unfortunately, I didn’t inherit my mother’s vocal chords; certain people actually ask me not to sing!
It’s the truth!
The only time I can exercise my desire to belt out a song is when I’m by myself. Sometimes, when I’m alone in my car, I put on a favorite CD, make sure all the windows are up, and sing along at the top of my crackly voice to my heart’s content. Now and then, I enjoy myself so much that I take the long way home so I have more time for singing. I once had a dog that barked every time I sang. Insulting!
Christmas Caroling? No way! I can go along, but only if I just move my mouth or hum. The same goes for church; I can lip-sync all I want, but no singing aloud for me!
But, today, even though it's raining, I have this urge to sing. And why not?
I’m alone. The cat’s asleep. And no one will hear me... “What a Difference a Day makes... twenty-four little hours...”