Singing Practice

It’s colder today.

Fall is setting in, and the fog, thicker now.

More and more pumpkin faces fill the dark windows.

On my bike, I get to Malia’s faster than ever

and she’s waiting for me at the door.

I don’t have a lot of time,

I have to—

Great! she says.

Hands me her boom box and a backpack.

She wraps Blankie around her face like a hood,

and we head down the forest path.

 

 

We put the silver boom box on a Sitting Stone.

When I say so press play, okay?

She bows to the trees,

spins once

all the way around.

I’m sure today

of all days

they are listening.

 

 

Now.

 

 

She points at me.

I press play, and the drumbeats

and keyboard pops fill the space near the pool,

the water rippling.

 

 

She sings.

If you’re lost you can look

and you will find me …

To the tree, the pool, the afternoon sky.

 

 

I feel the music go through me,

her voice floating across the water in the pool,

filtering through the knotty branches,

humming in the Sitting Stones.

 

 

At the end,

she bows and Blankie falls over her head.

She stands up,

blows the hair out of her face.

Her face seems redder, too, swollen.

Scratch marks across her neck

that I didn’t see before.

 

 

Well? she says,

wrapping Blankie back around.

 

 

For some reason,

even now when I want to talk,

the words won’t come out,

so I hesitate,

not on purpose,

but by now

I know

that silence

can wound,

and by the time

I muster the words

it was good,

it’s too late.

I see her face change,

eyes turned down,

tears already on the way.