Finding my Courage by Z. Lyn C. (reading books for 4 year olds TXT) 📕

"We're performing tomorrow?" I asked. My aunt nodded.

"Yes. Oh, we're going to do so well. I can't wait to hear all your lovely voices." She smiled brightly at the group.

I returned the smile halfheartedly. I loved dancing and singing, and part of me wanted to burst with excitement. On the other hand, part of me wanted to run as far away as possible, and hide in a corner until it was over.

I had a solo.

I could sing just fine in a group, following everyone else and listening to the beautiful blending of our voices, but the thought of having a solo sent fear skittering through me. What if I messed up? What if I started too early or too late? What if I just couldn't do it?

I sat there, practically paralyzed as I remembered the last time I had a solo.

I was around three or four years old, with my very first solo. Standing in a sparkly outfit and barely containing my excitement, I was proudly going to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I had practiced for a long time and I knew every word. When it was finally my turn, I had started to feel just a tiny bit nervous, but I was still excited. When I made my way up to the stage, I felt the stares of unknown people. My little legs trembled as I clutched the microphone, and my heart began to pound, drowning out the sound of the beginning music.

I couldn't do it. My tongue had refused to make the sounds required for singing. I was shaking and I missed the start of my song. The people started to whisper. Sweat dripped down my neck and I had felt as though the world would explode at any second. Then I couldn't take it. I dropped the mic and ran, oblivious to my aunt's cries for me to come back. I had run into a corner, and started to cry. I had cried until someone found me, and carried me away.

It was probably the worst day of my life.

"Are you okay?" I was abruptly pulled back into the present, and I turned to the girl who had asked the question.

"Oh, yea," I stuttered. "I'm fine."

"You're shaking," she pointed out. I looked at my hands. They were shaking.

"It's nothing," I insisted.

I left quickly without getting a treat.

The next day passed by too quickly and I suddenly found myself in another sparkly outfit, waiting for the song just before my solo to end. I was twisting my program into shreds when the song ended. I numbly heard the clapping of the audience, and my heart sputtered as I imagined all their eyes on me, as though waiting for me to mess up. Somehow, my feet managed to get me to the now dreaded microphone, and my hands carefully took it out of the stand. As the music started to play, I suddenly noticed my mom, and my dad, and the rest of my family smiling at me encouragingly. The knot in my stomache eased just a touch.

I began to sing.

 In this story, I have to sing a solo. My Aunt has a small music program called Hold That Note that I've been in for years. I've always loved singing and dancing, and I love Hold That Note. 

It's given me the chance to get over my stage fright, and to help build self confidence.

If you like music and there's a music program close to you, I'd recommend joining it. It can really do a lot to help you. 

(AND its been scientifically proven that singing makes you happy:)

Text: Z. Lyn C.
Images: Z. Lyn C.
Editing: Z. Lyn c.
Publication Date: 10-08-2014

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To my Aunt Alyn, who gave me the chance to sing and helped me develop confidence in myself.