Saturday, November 05, 2005
more than the color of his shoes
What if I find out there never was a true talent?
I have always imagined it there, awaiting discovery. I was either not “applying myself” enough, as countless teachers and my parents told me growing up, or it was not the 'right' time.
What if it was never there at all? Would that be a tragedy? It feels tragic. Where would that leave me?
Like a honeycomb dripping full, so many things bring me pleasure: working through to a perfect combination of words, a violin echoing on the walls of the subway station, the sound of an orchestra tuning their instruments, nestled into the backdrop of hushed murmurs of the audience, ballet class to a grand piano, being overwhelmed by the sky, being what someone needs at the right time, feeling skin against my skin. And how these things catch my breath, leave my heart aching, wanting to remember every sweet drop.
If in my last moments I see that rather than a talent, an appreciation or a participation is all I have to offer, will it be enough?
Posted by Rachel at 12:24 PM