I'm a really good actor. So good, I've convinced myself that I didn't really miss performing... but it turns out that I do. I miss it so much more than I fooled myself into thinking I did.
Wonderfully, I opened an email the other day from a dear man for whom I love to sing - he's a great conductor, pulling music out of me that I forgot I owned, making me want to work harder for the beauty of the song. He invited me to sing in his choir for a holiday concert and I jumped at the chance.
I walked into the chapel at St. George's with smiling butterflies in my stomach - and I walked out with tears in my soul.
It was emotional - to be singing again (and such beautiful music), to be working with this conductor I adore, to be part of a group making a glorious noise... and to know that it would all be over within 3 more rehearsals and 1 short performance.
I came home that night and cried in my husband's arms. And he held me tight while I gave in to missing it, while I saw through my own veneer.
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