Write My Name Across the Sky

by Barbara O'Neal

a vivid pink, because she sees no point to having anything that isn’t filled with life in some way.

Since Gamergate in 2014, major companies have overtly recruited women and invited them into the circle,

But I don’t mind the life of a musician. Not everyone loves the insecurity of it, and I have to admit it gets old, but what can you do if that’s what your very blood insists you’re meant to pursue? Nothing feels like music does, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without it. Empty. Not really a life at all.

My elder niece has never walked easily in the world—she’s prickly and easily offended and yet so very deeply vulnerable to hurt.

She would so have loved a life like this, full of travel and new sights and the possibilities of adventure!

I miss it, playing for people. It’s one thing to play for myself, to let out the music that’s singing through me, to show up and hold my instrument, give it the respect of practice. But music is meant to be shared. It’s communication. The music itself taking life through an instrument or a voice, then reaching into the hearts and bodies of other people, and coming back. I never feel so alive as when I’m playing for people, with them. My heart lifts a little.

This is why I am committed to music, moments like this, when I am plugged into something bigger than me, something enormous and wild and full of life, a thing that flows through me and into the world, into the other bodies here, spilling out into the street, offering hope and healing and sparks of joy.

There’s something alive and longing for expression in me that wants outlet through music, and I can’t imagine what my life will be, who I will even be, if I have to give it up.

Trust my own creativity.

The great tragedy of aging is not the loss of the supple body but the illusions we are forced to leave behind, one after the other, like a string of

pearls from a necklace. That all will be well, that dreams can come true, that we can always do what we wish, that sacrifice and sorrow are not inevitable.

Unlike the rest of them, I didn’t get any big gifts. I’m pretty good at a lot of things—the photos and my plants. I can sing passably well and dance well enough to get compliments, but mostly I am friendly. My gift has always been an ability to be happy. It sounds small until you live in the world for a while.

her ability to bring us into her family, make space for us both at the table and away from it, made both of us stronger.

I have no idea how long I stand there suspended in the sound, the power, but it’s a long while, a long time of making love to the music in me, a long time lost in the beauty of that.

With my Instagram, I discovered a way to be useful. Helpful.

For me, music has been at the center of everything my whole life, a solid core of love that I could count on no matter what else was happening. Not to bring

in money, although I know I will never starve as long as I touch it, but a thing I can love and trust completely, more of a friend than any other thing in my life. I wish my mother had trusted her gift.

“Look, I just don’t think I can do this. I don’t want to do this.”

fighting the irritability that has been my defense for

decades.

I see the relief in her face, the easing of her shoulders as she lets go of her defenses. It sears me, that she has to erect a shield against me.

A new flare of annoyance runs over my nerves, and I have to fight it back down, fight against flinging out a comment

Why are you always so mean about her?

you’re an aloof weirdo who makes it impossible for anyone to get close to you!”

“You’re mean and petty to everyone, and it’s getting you exactly the life you deserve.”

“You’re very important to me, Auntie. I’m sorry I don’t say that more often.”

I thought we could move forward. I mean, we’ve been best friends for decades. How can we just not be anymore?”

“How do I stop doing this, G? The people I love the most in the world are mad at me. And they have every right to be.”

abandonment issues,

All I’ve ever wanted was for her to just love me, and all she does is sneer.”

a tongue as sharp as a serpent’s tooth.

Why am I so mean?

“It’s like the world has no color without you in it.”

But . . .” He straightens. “I’m not going to put up with that evil tongue. I don’t want to feel that way, and even if it means we have to walk away forever, I’m willing to do it.”

New albums. Just because one release was a flop doesn’t mean they all will be. This is what I’m meant to do, and I’ll keep going, no matter what.