A Kiss and a Cuddle Read Free Page B

always
excited for her to watch me perform, and I felt that when I performed well and
won competitions, it was like she was winning too.  Somehow, my musical success
was for the both of us.  More than anything in the world, I wanted to make her
proud. 
    The
winner of Houston competition would receive a month of “Singer Songwriter Music
Camp” in Boulder, Colorado.  I didn’t know much about Colorado, as I had never
visited that state before, but I had heard that Boulder was a very eccentric
place.  There were artists, musicians, and free spirits everywhere.  And that
excited me.
    I
told my mom that I would be singing one of the songs from our high school
musical for the Houston competition, but secretly, I wanted to surprise her
with her favorite song, “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John.  Whenever that song would
play when I was growing up, my mom would be whisked away to another world,
where she was a young ballet dancer, twirling and being lifted into the air,
with her long hair pulled back into a meticulous bun, her trusty well-worn
shoes, and her flowing skirt.  She sang along to the song with every part of
her mind, body, and soul.  Sometimes, I would notice her red-rimmed eyes or a
single tear run down her cheek at the end of the song, and I knew.  I knew that
she had given up her passion to have me, and I was going to do everything I
could to let her know that I appreciated that.
    As
soon as the delicate piano introduction of “Tiny Dancer” began to play at the
competition, I looked at my mom in the crowd.  At first, she looked confused,
and when she saw that I was perfectly calm and smiling, she knew that I had
chosen this song for her.  I sang to her in the crowd, and she sang back to
me.  When I started singing the words, “ Hold me closer, tiny dancer.  Count
the headlights on the highway.  Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy
day today ,” we were both singing with every part of our minds, bodies, and
souls.  The words of this simple love song told the story of my mom’s passion
for dancing, her lost career, her new baby, and new life as a mom.  By the end
of the song, we were both tearing up.  It was such a powerful performance that
most of the crowd and judges were misty-eyed too.  All three of the judges gave
me a perfect ten score, and in the end, I won the contest.  But most
importantly, I made my mom proud.
    After
winning that competition, my singing and song writing seemed to take off.  I
attended the camp in Boulder, Colorado and learned about how to make a career
out of singing.  They taught me about singing at open mic nights, doing radio
interviews for promotion, and they praised Denver’s music scene that supported
numerous artists with no shortage of places to play, record, and perform.  When
they took us on a field trip to see the Red Rock Amphitheatre, it was love at
first sight.  I knew I wanted to play there one day.  I had a strange feeling
come over me, and I could feel that this was the right move.  The occurrences
and coincidences in my mother’s life and my life had led me to this place in
Colorado, and it seemed serendipitous.  I felt like I could make it big in
Denver.  I decided to wholeheartedly pursue my singing career for both me and
my mom. 
    I
trusted my instincts and moved to Denver during the fall.  Of course, I had no
money and no family there, but I picked up a couple of jobs waiting tables at
restaurants downtown.  On my nights off, I would seek out open mic nights, and
sometimes, I would just bring my guitar down to Sixteenth Street and play for
people walking by.  It seemed as though my instincts were right, because I was
quickly picked up by a major record label in the city.  A tall, handsome
gentleman by the name of Richard Holloway passed me his card after an open mic
session at Mercury Café one night.  He took me under his wing, and I was
grateful that someone cared and wanted to mentor me.  I signed with his