Maybe next year

I promised a few days ago that I'd post about Joe-Henry's audition for the school talent show, and I've been wrestling with what exactly to say. But mostly I've been wrestling with myself. Unfortunately there has been no baby oil or mud involved, so I haven't enjoyed it at all.

The thing is, I don't want to become one of "those" mothers. I don't want to push my child into something he doesn't want to do. I want music to be the fun, amazing outlet that it has always been for him. Do I think the world at large would love to hear him play and be amazed and amused by the stuff his heart and his head and his hands put together? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! He routinely floors me, he blows the lid off my brain daily, and I am grateful, so grateful that sometimes we remember to record it and other times are burned indelibly into my memory, like a lighter held high at the alter of your favorite rock concert. I hear him sing, truly rockin', soulful, way beyond his years stuff, and I catch myself looking down at my lap, wondering how he slipped out of this body.

That said, I also want music to be his journey, not mine. No matter how much I know deep in my heart and soul that he would and could someday soon set the music world on its ear, I would rather have the music set him on HIS ear. I want him to be moved by it himself, I want him to worship at that altar on his own time and in his own way. And he told me yesterday, when he came home from school with the note that said he was accepted into the talent show that he wanted to wait one more year, the Mama Anne in me had a smackdown with the Mama Rose in me. It was no contest, really. I kicked her ass to the curb.

So Harney Elementary will have to wait at least another year to hear the boy play. It's his decision, and I'm so proud of the time and consideration he's given it.

Rock on. Over and out.