When I was a kid, I used to sing along to the radio. Loudly. Enthusiastically. All. The. Time.

I didn’t care who heard me. I even sang in front of my elementary school class a few times for Show and Tell.

Occasionally, Mom would interrupt with a suggestion: “Why don’t you try to make your voice go up and down like the singer?”

One day during fourth grade, I was riding in the car and singing when Mom asked me to stop. If you can’t make your voice go up and down, JUST. STOP.

I took the hint.

I mean, if your own mother tells you to stop singing, then it’s gotta sound BAD, right?

But here’s the question that keeps nagging me: What if my mom was wrong?

When your name is Harmony and you’re being raised by a well-known local musician, the questions are inevitable.

Can you sing? What do you play?

The answers became a running joke.

I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. I play the radio.

But the truth is, I still sing. Maybe a little softer now, but when no one else is home or I’m in the car alone, you can bet I’m singing.

I’m not tone deaf. I can tell when a song is out of my range (even if I try it anyway). I can tell when I’m sharp or flat (even if I’m not sure what to do about it).

And I don’t think my voice is that bad. Heck, sometimes it even sounds pretty good. Not give-me-a-record-contract good. More like drunk-people-might-sincerely-applaud good. But I’ll take what I can get.

I just need something to boost my confidence and someone to teach me how to handle a mic.

Image credit: THINKSTOCK