dear november

11.23.14

Dear November, 

Concert day. It was amazing, full of music and laughter and coy glances and pure wild animal craziness. I loved nearly every minute of it. I say nearly, because if I love every single second of today then my hands would be shaking and I would have written this earlier. No, I loved /nearly/ every minute of it, because sometimes pieces on dead teenage musicians are a little too sad to enjoy. 

But don't worry. /Nearly/ is just as good, even better than /every single second/. 

We were the first grade group on stage, barely-there teenagers forging our adolescence in the concert hall. Have you noticed I've been vague about this? The concert, what event, age? The internet may be where I spill my writing, but not personal information. After our three pieces, we left the stage, put away our instruments, and went to sit in the topmost seating area. It gave me vertigo, right next to the edge, but boy, what a view. The next three bands played, taking a longer time that I expected, and honestly, I was surprised. The pieces weren't as dynamic, as in-your-face as I expected. Some songs really got me, but I liked our songs the best. 

After an hour and a half of inappropriate laughter and tiredness seeping through the excitement, three of the bands made it down backstage to take out our instruments for the final piece all four bands would play together. At this point, maybe I should have been nervous, but I wasn't. Music is the only thing I can perform without getting terrible nerves beforehand. Maybe I just love it so much anxiety never crosses my mind. 

And then, there we were: all four bands on stage, the trombones and trumpets in the balconies, flutes and clarinets filling up center stage. I was ready to play, when they began the acknowledgements and awards. Of course, as the minutes dragged on, I was out of it when they called my name. 

That was when I realized, half-listening and in a daze, that I had received a half scholarship for a band camp. These people, these composers had recognized me and decided, I should be on the receiving end of this generosity. "It's like this [concert], but multiplied by a million and you get to play horn all day" roughly the words of the band teacher. I'm reveling, still. 

Before a thousand-something people, my name, to think I've come this far? I'm jumping out of my skin. Next summer, next summer. Sleeping under the stars with 600-odd strangers in the woods. What can I say? I'm a musician. 

Sincerely, Esther