Cellolover Stories

I placed the wooden music machine in between my legs, I put the end pen in the stopper to keep the cello from sliding. The bow is so rosined that it's white. My hands sweat as I grip the bow. I place it on the C string and pull, watching the thick string vibrate, sending a deep sound into the air. I placed my thumb behind the second finger and began to play the notes that are laid out before me on fresh printed paper, sitting upright on a metal music stand. My fingers placed perfectly on each tape and I transitioned onto different strings with perfect timing thanks to the ticking of the metronome. I was born to play this instrument. This was all I needed. But then my life, my passion got turned up side down.