The Trouble With Me

A Small Girl

I always wake up in the morning to music. I don't know where it comes from, but I hear it in my head. For some reason I can never remember it's melody or what instrument it is. It's a perplexing thought to wake up to, but it's beautiful. For a while all I knew was music. Music was my dear everything - literally.
That's when I took a trip to Italian Bar. Some place in California that had a large River and it was in the middle of a dense forest. The first sight of this place made me feel like I was a tree that grew another root. I felt as though I expanded, and I never wanted to leave the place. Nature became my new treasure, but I used music, to love it.
Kindergarten was really where my life began and I started to open up. It was recess, who cared about recess that much anyway? Or at least playing? Everybody except for me. I was that 5 year old that never stopped singing. I didn't care how loud I was, and all those who listened said I was amazing. I always sang loudly during recess, but one day the clouds were coming in from the west, and I could see them. By recess they were covering the sky, and I felt this anticipation and this interest. I began to sing about the storm, and my song followed the patterns of the way the storm progressed...and I found...me.