Its evening now and I've just got home from Gramps' house. I left him in his red chair watching Only Fools and Horses, so he was content. I'm supposed to be at the conservatoires' Orchestra rehearsals this afternoon, but I don't know whether I can bring myself to play my harp. I can think of a million excuses to say to the conductor but none to tell myself. There's no excuse, no real reason to not go. I promised Gramps that I would carry on playing, I can't let him down.
I decide to just suck it up. Its a short walk to our practice space and I am the first to turn up. I get my harp positioned and flick through the music. I try to convince myself that I will be fine, that I will be able to play this music, but theres so many doubts running through my head. Am I good enough to be here? Will my fingers hold out? Will I bring down the rest of the orchestra?
Soon enough the rest of the musicians turn up, the violinists and flautists, the percussionists and the trumpeters. They file in and start warming up. I run through some scales and then just listen to the ruckus of sound around me. Everyone is in their own world, so focused, so driven and with everyone playing differently but simultaneously, its hard to imagine that all these instruments would be able to work together to produce one sound. Its magical if you think about it, dozens of people working together, perfectly balanced to produce music, to produce art.
The conductor silences everyone with a wave of his baton (really just a glorified stick) and a deathly hush falls across the room. He directs us to a section of music and we start to play.
**********
Only one thing beats listening to an orchestra, and that is playing in an orchestra. You are enveloped by sound, and its breath-taking. Its warm and comforting and so raw. It's listening and opening up your perceptions to everyone around you. It's feeling the music vibrate through you and adding to that yourself. It's hearing and seeing and feeling everyone around you working harmoniously to achieve art.
I forget how incredible and heart-warming it can be to create music with others, because as soon as the conductor beats out that very first beat the whole orchestra becomes one entity and theres no pressure on just you, theres only a team. And what a beautiful team to be a part of.
I have forgotten my stresses now and as I play I escape into another world. A world created by a composer hundreds of years ago. Its like reading a book, you can just slip into another decade, another life and experience everything. I am so thankful to Gramps, I don't think I would have turned up if not for him. And if I hadn't returned to music today, then I may have not tomorrow or the day after that. And if I gave up music, I would be giving up part of me.
***********
After rehearsals, I head home in high spirits. As soon as I am home I shrug off my coat and call out, "hey Cam."
And then the silence hits me. I never thought I would use that phrase, but now I understand it. Because silence can hit, it can punch the air from your lungs and push you back so forcefully. I had forgotten. he hasn't come home yet. I pull out my phone, no messages. Theres emotion bubbling from my chest waiting to spew out. Anger? Worry? Despair? I flick to his contact and begin to type.
Cam,
Why haven't you come home, I'm worried sick. I know you're angry and I understand but you could at least message me to say you're alright. Its not fair.
And then I delete it. I realise that this is exactly the reason he was angry with me that day, because he was worried and I was off forgetting the world for a while. A wave of guilt falls on me.
Cam,
I didn't mean what I said, it was so unjust. If you could just come home, please? I hate not having my best friend, I hate myself for pushing you away. You mean so so so much to me and I don't want to cary on without you. Just let me know that you are okay. I wish you would come home and I could give you the biggest hug and we could watch Singin' in the rain and drink those disgusting soy caramel frappachinos you love. Please Cam. I'm sorry xxxxxxxxxx
I delete that as well.
I'm sorry x
I press send.
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Joining the Dots
General Fiction"Life doesn't come gently, it hits you all at once. A tsunami of events." "Anxiety makes being a musician hard. Anxiety makes life hard. My passion, my dreams seem so far away. I could touch it all once, but once is distant now." "I want to be happy...
