Rust and Realization

I've been going to rehearsals this week for a Navajo Oratorio by a modern composer, and I realized during the 3 1/2 hour operetta with pages filled with torrents of notes--I'm rusty.

I then remembered that it's been an entire year that I've been out of school, (and rehearsals, and studying, and the orchestra's tour of the coast...) and I couldn't help but wish to have everything that I've missed. Tackling a new and daunting piece with my 3 friends that we call a quartet...the masterclasses with world-reknown artists, the hard work, the compliments, and the criticism, the satisfaction of applause after a semester of 5-day a week late-night rehearsals, arguing, laughing, playing until our fingers cracked and bled, and then putting bandaids on them and continuing, ... enlightenment when suddenly the music means more to you than just ink on a page, knowing without having to even think what the music needs, what it means, and everyone playing it that way all at the same time, and then-seeing tears on the faces of your colleagues... the music is real.

I've missed the opera, the Gala, the goofy halloween concert, with cider, and pictures and friends, and hitting your stand-partners wig off accidentally with your bow, Dr. Baldwin's baton flying loose into the audience because he was wearing gloves, but continued on anyways, stifling laughter as hard as he could. Absence really had made my heart grow fonder, and I was angry at myself. I entirely regretted not going to school, for being rusty, for being behind, why did I do this to myself?

Then suddenly I had a realization. During those long 3 hours of rehearsal, the thought came to me- I can go back to school, but I could never have my baby's first smile back if I missed it... and even though I am standing by watching all of my friends accomplish what I could be too this very day,... (graduation) buying the gowns, and taking the well-earned walk to get their diplomas,... I know I've gotten to enjoy a different kind of graduation,... into motherhood, with no credit hours, tours of the coast, or applause for my efforts, (except for the clapping together of two very sticky little hands, and a one-toothed grin) but when I look into that little chubby face that giggles when I walk in the door, and looks to me for all comfort, and well-being, I know... it was worth it.