Counting blessings

Yesterday, I was listening to my little grandson, Charlie, play with a bunch of very lifelike plastic animals.  He would dive in to the container and come up with a random creature who would then become the main character in his improvised song.  He has such a beautiful singing voice.

It occurred to me that I come from a family of singers with talent ranging from good to excellent.  I was the only one to get my mother's less than tuneful genes. Neither of us could carry a tune at all.  So, of course, I have always wished that I could sing well, too.  It has never stopped me from singing but I have been asked to not sing - mostly by my kids.  And I know that there are a few kids out there who have learned  off-key versions of songs that I have taught to the  Brownies or kids in the daycare. I absolutely love to belt out a song.

But listening to Charlie, I started to wonder how hard I really wished for it.  I thought of all the talents that I have been given and for which I am very thankful.  What if there was only a certain number of talents that I was allowed to have?  And what if I was given the rather Faustian opportunity to exchange one of these talents for a beautiful singing voice?

It didn't take  long to realize that there was nothing I could choose to give up.  Changing even one would make me a very different person.  Of course, it's just a question.  It did make me think hard about what makes me unique, though.

I love the sound of the mallards quacking.  It isn't music exactly, but it's unique.  And it makes me smile.  I'm content to listen to others sing as long as I can still quack along.