Especially in the 1950s.
Back then, disability often became the first thing people saw and the last thing they bothered to understand.
But church was different.
Or at least it felt different to me.
Because in the choir loft, nobody could see your legs once you sat down.
Only your voice.
And mine was strong.
I loved singing because it was the one place where I didn’t feel broken before I even opened my mouth. Music made people close their eyes while listening, and when their eyes were closed, they forgot to treat me carefully.
Charles noticed me during choir practice one rainy Thursday evening.
I still remember exactly what happened.
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