Most days, I live in my mind. I staff museum sites at a park, and there are many hours of the day where my own inner voices carry on a heated dialogue while I intermittently sit, stand, and talk with visitors.
This winter was a rough one for me, both emotionally and for my immune system. On one of several visits to the doctor, I was informed that every ten days our immune systems are introduced to a new germ. It would appear that I felt the need to host every germ that knocked on my system’s proverbial door.
The past month has been a respite from performing. April began with a chest cold and ended with the flu. I visited my sibling in Vancouver and then headed to Montréal to present a paper and songwriting session at a conference.
I am just now feeling my health returning. My lymph nodes no longer swell and ache at the end of the day, and I am not completely exhausted morning, noon, and night.
The memory of being constantly sick is still fresh in my memory, however, so I am easing back in. Tonight, I eased in with an early performance at my beloved open mic at the Back Page.
Ease was not a part of my experience this evening. I felt uneasy and out of sorts from the beginning. I couldn’t see my sheet music because the mic stand was blocking my view. I had trouble hearing my own voice and could not tell if I was singing in key. I started singing one song and stopped after the first verse and chorus. I swear the notes did not feel so high when I was singing in my living room.
People still gave me love and support. I was reassured that I was indeed singing in key. And my dear friends carried my amp to and from the parking lot.
This I love about Lowell.
And it is for this reason I will get up there and perform again and again and again.