|
Leaving Home Leaving HomeLast night made it official. I am officially not going back to choir. Wammick is not for me any longer. Is it wrong that I don't feel much of anything about the ending of a chapter of my life? After 9 years of singing in the choir at large, including 6 years of carolling, 3 years of exec, 8 years of moving crew, 3 years as a lunch mum, and 4 years on the Chorus Line hockey team, I have very little reaction to not being a part of Wammick any more. I was relieved to have moved on from the responsibilities of the last year, not only doing my job but also covering for others both less competent and less committed. While I celebrated being finished in May, it wasn't until last week that I handed over my keys and the last of the weight of responsibility. It was simply exhausting and I don't really know how I survived the year without burning out. I will miss the magic of singing in so large a group: the booming in the air from triple forte and the sizzling energy of pianissimo, the ringing silence after the last note before anyone takes a breath, the rush of a concert well sung, the world's largest group hugs and the end of tour tears. I will miss all of these things, but I am ready to live without them. I have outgrown my safe home of the last 9 years, a home that has supplied me with everything I need and more. Last night was our slide show, recapping the 59th year of the choir, my 9th year. For the 10th year in a row, my name has been misspelled, which gives me a feeling of continuity. I was in many of the photos in my various roles: financial officer, hockey player, moving crew, lunch mum, and girlfriend. Thinking back, it made me realize how involved I have become in this choir, how much of a part of my life it is. The first time I was in a slide show was in my 5th year of choir, my 4th year butt was in the background of someone else's picture and I was sad that the only mark I had made in 4 years was with my behind. In my 5th year I plunged in, getting involved in everything I could. I made friends in the choir; some of whom I'm sure will be with me the rest of my days. It amazes me that something entered so lightly had such an impact on me. As I walked through the butterdome, my first day at university, an arm grabbed me out of the crowd. It was someone I knew vaguely from high school; I thought she didn't even know who I was. She cried:" Hey, you can sing! Come join this choir!" I signed up for an audition and promptly forgot about it. I missed my audition, showed up at a random time, and sang immediately, without a warm-up. The audition was terrible; I shook so badly and couldn't sight sing to save my soul! I was so sure that I didn't get in that I wasn't even going to check the list to see if I was on it but for some reason I did. I searched through the huge list of names and there, under the title of Alto II, was my name. Black on white reassurance that even though my audition wasn't great, the conductor saw something in me and in my voice that was worth keeping. Wammick has given me so much: experience with managing volunteers, controlling finances, running executives, and organizing large social gatherings, a solid group of friends that always sing Happy Birthday in tune and will hug you anywhere and in front of anyone, and, always, Bear. It has filled my life to overflowing with fun, laughter, tears, drama and song. It has given me identity and nicknames and value and self-worth. It has touched me and changed me forever for the better. So thank you Wammick. Thank you for my friends, my love and my life as it is today. I hope that in some way I have given back to you a small part of what you have given me. I promise to visit you from time to time and I'll be at the hockey games too. Call if you need me. Love, Me
2003-09-11 || 2:56 p.m. |
