My favorite part of the day is around 7pm, around the time he takes his daily shower. His little brother is playing in his room, making dinosaur roars or superhero exclamations of grandeur and rescue.
My oldest child sings in the shower. And he sounds so free. He’s usually so shy or crippled by anxiety that he rarely speaks, never to strangers, barely to me. When he does it’s an outburst, a meltdown, more and more lately a threat.
But when he’s in the shower he sings like no one’s listening. Like no one’s home. Tonight he croons Alicia Keys’ “Unthinkable” and I could cry.
Around 7pm my house smells like soap and sounds like melodic joy and my child is free. His mind is clear and all that matters to him are the lyrics, the rhythms and the beats that calm his soul.
His singing mixes with his brother’s playing and for a moment I feel peace. For a moment I can write again. I can read again. I can breathe again. I am free.
It’s my favorite part of the day.