There is a Room

There is a room in my house, filled with many things. Not all of them have their place or are necessarily put away. Some things don't belong in this room. Some things, you would not tell their importance to me by the way they are placed in this room. My flute is there, in it's case, sticking akwardly out of a box full of other random items. I haven't touched it in years. Years. How did that happen? You wouldn't know it if you walked into that room that I was a musician. That it was once the thing that kept me going each and every day. I was a fool to not have pushed myself harder. I was a fool to ever put that fine piece of nickel away. My heart breaks every time I hear classical music. I can't sit through ballets or operas or even a recording without being reminded of what I've given up, and for no particular reason. There has never really been a reason for me to stop playing. Just because I'm not a symphony member or a music student does not mean I should put my instrument away. It means I should be studying harder than ever before. I should be practicing to keep my edge. I should not be so negletful of something I cherish so much, of something that truly makes me the person I am.