Sheryl and Sons

Sheryl and Sons
I told you they were big.

Monday, April 9, 2012

The Best One

The words are in my mouth, and I want to say them, but now is not the time.  I look meaningfully at my husband, and I think he knows.

We say our thank yous and goodbyes and walk to the car.  Even though we are alone outside on this cold night, I decide to wait.  I need complete privacy.  I take my husband's arm, as if I am nervous about slipping on the ice, but really I just want to be close to him.

He opens the car door for me, and I get in, and he comes around the other side.  Once we are safely locked inside our car, and the motor is running, I let the words out.

"He was the best one!"

"You think so?" my husband asks, but he is smiling.

"Yes," I say.  And  because I've been, throughout our marriage, painfully and sometimes brutally honest about the merits and demerits of our children, my husband knows that this is true.

We are leaving the Winter Voice Recital at our son's high school.  We have just discovered our son can sing.  I mean really sing.

He has been participating in various high school choral groups for three years, but this year he started delving much deeper into music, and he asked to take private lessons with a vocal jazz teacher.

In order to take lessons with this teacher, he also needed to take lessons with another teacher.  When I first heard this, I thought it was crazy.  But this teacher was very good, and very selective, and my son was suddenly very serious about singing.  This came as a surprise, because he had always been very serious about volleyball.  He played on the varsity, and was captain of the team.  When I realized all the money we'd spent on club and travel sports throughout his life, singing lessons seemed like a small and reasonable request.

While I had heard my son sing many times as part of a group, tonight he performed an entire song alone.  I admit I had been nervous. I didn't know what to expect.  I have seen him spike the final point into the net.  I have seen him miss a game winning serve.

He picked up the microphone and cued his accompanist.  "One, two, a one two three four."

And then he opened his mouth to sing.  And just as he had grown this year into bigger shoes and longer pants, it was clear that he had also grown as a performer.  His voice was rich and strong.  He smiled, moved to the music, and engaged the audience.  He seemed relaxed, and confident, and happy.

I understood that something profound had changed for him, and therefore had changed for me.  I was now the mother of a jazz vocalist.

The best one.

2 comments:

Kim S. said...

Beautiful! It sounds like he's found a real passion - and talent. I wonder if it's become more "cool" these days for athletes to sing because of that show Glee?

Sheryl Cohen Solomon said...

I don't know if Glee has made a difference--it's an interesting question!