A Song Called ‘Moonbeams’

Deputy Editor Kayleigh Greig shares an endearing memory from the past. 

Somewhere in my childhood, I must have decided that I was good at singing. I was not. Seven years of school choir taught me to stand up straight, enunciate clearly, and not much else. Unfortunately, my notes were still as unstable as a toddler on a tightrope. Despite my tone-deaf ignorance, however, I decided to write a song – and it went a little like this (I was nine, don’t judge):

(Chorus)

Moonbeams on a dark, cold night,

Whatcha gonna dream about tonight?

Dream, gleam,

Dream, gleam.

(Bridge)

Morning will come, 

The night will run,

Sometimes things seem bad,

But later you’ll be glad.

(Alternate chorus)

Moonbeams on a dark, cold night,

The shining stars are a sparkling sight.

Dream, gleam.

Moonbeam. 

-- Me, age 9ish

Not at all repetitive, huh? And with a whole two choruses! Yes, yes, I will upload it to Spotify at my earliest convenience so you can all play it on heavy rotation. You’ll love the extra high, extra long final note on “beam.”

Sarcasm aside, my family, being the angels that they are, decided not to shove cotton wool in their ears and instead embraced it. My dad wrote a beautiful guitar accompaniment, but also a rap (don’t worry, I won’t inflict it on you) that he forced my poor brother to sing. My mom, of course, was chief videographer and she even sent the video – of me singing my heart out in a sparkly owl shirt and a fedora (don’t ask me why) and my brother dropping bars in a flat-cap – to a songwriting competition. Newsflash: we didn’t win. Shocker. 

Even though it didn’t rocket me to fame, ‘Moonbeams’ has remained special to me as a sweet (if rather embarrassing) core memory. You may be asking what any of this has to do with women, as this is the women’s issue of Grapeshot, after all. Well, before every woman comes a little girl; and girls only grow into women because of the people who magnify their gleams into moonbeams. For me, those people are my family. My brother, dad and mom have always been the ones to support me, even in the small things like a silly, little song.

And of course, there’s something to be said about the wisdom of children. At age nine, I may not have been weaving lyrical greatness, but I did know something: no matter how dark your nightmares, the moon is always shining somewhere. No matter how bad it gets, there is always good to be found.

And now, as I look back, I’d like to add: No matter how hard your life is as an adult, there is always your younger self shining within, wishing you on to accomplish your dreams. Twelve years later, here I am still writing about moonbeams.