Faint Memories

Prologue

Having your voice heard to a crowd of people, is honestly the most beautiful, yet terrifying thing to do.

No matter how good you are, the constant stares are petrifying because any little mistake is seen by at least one perfectionist. But the moment you add the smell of fresh muffins, coffee and that soothing smell of cinnamon, it's like the worries melt into the world of a sweet coffee shop.

Very cliché, but I could care less. Just like every tumblr, or girly girl, I love the feeling of a coffee shop. Especially if it's owned by someone close, like my...mom. She's a heartwarming woman who started up the shop years ago as a simple thrift store but eventually she started baking. Her obsession over baking started the whole shop. But I guess a bakery would make more sense, that's when my...dad comes in.

The guy loves his morning, afternoon, snack, whenever coffee. Not to mention no one can perfect his coffee. We could go to Wawa, add the same amount of coffee and creamer as him, stir it the same amount of times and it would still taste different or not as good.

He always had that small smile when Mom and I would try copying it. We even walked in his exact footsteps. Still nothing.

My...uncle, he used to be in a boy band with his friends which was a complete flunk. Imagine a bunch of guys, wearing their hair in a clean, smelly quiff of the 60's, but short and stubby. But their name was a real attractive to women. Snail eye whackers.

Yep, the ladies drooled because of them because of their laughing with no sound coming out.

Anyways, my...dad always told me stories about his brother, and their useless tries at singing but it never got anywhere. Just imagine a whaling cat with autotune. Sadly Uncle Asher still sounds like that, so we all avoid his singing.

Hearing their stories about fun times and singing made me want to sing, but also my real inspiration.

When I was little, this girl that lived next door, always sang. She was older, around her teens while I was still in pig tails at 6 years old. But, her voice, was so soothing and melodic that sometimes you couldn't even look away. She would catch me watching and smiled and kept singing but louder.

Then one day, that family moved out and I was left to just memories of her. Like usual. Most beautiful things are now memories since the most beautiful people have left.

After the girl moved out, another family moved in with a kid my age. The kid was honestly so nice but had a sense of humor, even at 6, that would have even adults laughing at it for hours. We would go over each other's houses often. Then that's when the kid said one thing that led me to stage fright.

"Singing is stupid. Some people look weird while doing it. Especially boys."

But Man, that kid was awesome till they left too but a lot sooner. I never knew why, but they barely lasted a year.

That kid was a memory too. An old, futile memory, that left me being in a solitude with singing. Up until this year.