The lights are bright and hot. There is a stifled cough from somewhere in the audience and the subtle clinks of metal and rustling of papers. Then, silence. The calm before the storm, the deep breath before the first beautiful chord echoes through the concert hall. My eyes dart across dots and lines, a language I've spent years learning, studying. I should be nervous, but my heart beats in three four time and I've never felt so at peace. I've never felt like I belonged somewhere more than I do right here on this stage with my fingers pressing purposefully down on keys and my breath flowing from me in a focused stream of air across a silver mouthpiece. We reach a peak, where the music swells so vividly you can feel the pain of the chord it in your soul..ouch! I'm brought from my daydream by a sippy cup to the back of the head. My hands are pruned from the soapy water where I've been washing dishes and a toddler sits fussing in his high chair, refusing to finish his lunch. I'm terrified that one day I will wake up to this reality. Trapped as a housewife full of day dreams of a life she could have had. Sure, I want the mortgage, and I want the sink full of dishes and soapy water. One day, I even want the fussy toddler. But nothing will ever give me as much purpose or meaning as when I have been on that stage, performing timeless classics, contributing to mezmerising chords, creating beautiful music. I may become many things in my life, but I will always consider myself a musician. I have studied and practiced music since I was twelve years old. It is one thing I can say I am really good at and incidentally, it is the one thing that has always defined me, given me purpose. I just hope that I will find a way to make my dream come true.
No comments:
Post a Comment