The wings of an angel

[turtle]

If I had the wings of an angel, o'er these prison walls I'd fly . . .

Mom would have told you that she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a bail and a lid, but when I was young I loved to hear her sing.

Some people may always sing every verse of a song in order, but as we hum and sing to accompany our daily activities we are more likely to repeat our favorite verses.

I loved to hear mom sing. It was beautiful, and it meant she was happy. We sang together.

If I had the wings of an angel, o'er these prison walls I'd fly . . .

I know now there were other things she might have done. I know now that she made her regrets sweet by singing through the drudgery.

I thought she sang because she was happy. Now I recognize the poignant happiness of a middle-aged woman who gave up her life for a child.

The two phrases I remember most were both true:

If I had the wings of an angel, o'er these prison walls I'd fly . . .

but also:

I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free . . .

Thanks, Mom.