Hidden Talents
Hidden Talents Everyone is talented at something. It may be sports, drawing, playing a musical instrument, or writing. Some people discover this almost instantly, while others do not realize it at all. Either way, everyone is talented at something. But what’s worse than finding out you are talented at something, even if at a late time in your life? However big or small it may be, the saddest thing in life is wasted talent. I discovered my talent, unintentionally, I suppose, when I was 12 years old. And I am constantly being reminded to never let it go to waste.
My mother and grandmother always told me I started singing before I could talk. I would always laugh it off and blame it on the television shows I used to watch. My mom would shake her head and argue that it was not Barney and Disney Channel, that I had natural talent. As far as I can remember, music has been a main factor of my childhood. In fact, music is really the only thing I can vividly remember of my childhood. I always tell Mama that every memory I can recall has its own song to go with it, and that I could make a soundtrack to my childhood if I could. It sounds dramatic, but it’s true. We would always have the radio on full blast-- in our home, the car, outside-- and without hesitation, I always sang along. The only time I would really belt out, however, was when nobody was around. I never paid any attention to how I sounded, in fact I didn’t even know I had a “good” voice, I was just like any other little girl singing in front of the mirror with a hairbrush as a microphone and a dream. Nobody knew of this dream of mine, or know the talent I possessed, until one day.
It was a weekend, I believe, and Mama and I had just finished cleaning the house, as usual. She told me she was going to the grocery store, so I hopped into the run-down shower in our too-small bathroom. Before getting in, of course, I popped in my favorite CD: Aaliyah’s “One in a Million” album. Thinking that I was
My mother and grandmother always told me I started singing before I could talk. I would always laugh it off and blame it on the television shows I used to watch. My mom would shake her head and argue that it was not Barney and Disney Channel, that I had natural talent. As far as I can remember, music has been a main factor of my childhood. In fact, music is really the only thing I can vividly remember of my childhood. I always tell Mama that every memory I can recall has its own song to go with it, and that I could make a soundtrack to my childhood if I could. It sounds dramatic, but it’s true. We would always have the radio on full blast-- in our home, the car, outside-- and without hesitation, I always sang along. The only time I would really belt out, however, was when nobody was around. I never paid any attention to how I sounded, in fact I didn’t even know I had a “good” voice, I was just like any other little girl singing in front of the mirror with a hairbrush as a microphone and a dream. Nobody knew of this dream of mine, or know the talent I possessed, until one day.
It was a weekend, I believe, and Mama and I had just finished cleaning the house, as usual. She told me she was going to the grocery store, so I hopped into the run-down shower in our too-small bathroom. Before getting in, of course, I popped in my favorite CD: Aaliyah’s “One in a Million” album. Thinking that I was