scribblechic

Last night was your first band concert in your new school. Perched high in the bleachers I surveyed your new gym, noting colorful differences to your previous experience. Gone was the elevated stage and behind the scenes preparations. Children visited across instruments in colorful interpretations of loosely outlined guides for attire.

There was a cautious cacophony of sound; families making their way to congested seats, younger children impatiently filling the waiting with restless wiggles, urgent shuffling of papers and easy banter. Then, you began a collective warm up and I was in awe of the singular sound 192 children created.

The hair on my neck bristled with the quiet perfection of a singular harmony.

There was something exquisite in the uniformity of sound juxtaposed against the kaleidoscope of individuality. The sharply contrasted colors of attire and the eloquent introductions from student guides who lead each performance.

I had expected to miss the consonance of black bottoms and crisply starched white shirts or the humor of a well-loved  teacher’s wandering narratives and easy humor. Familiar is not always better.

There was a lovely humility in change. We stack our expectations against the joy of discovery.

You looked well placed in your company; prideful and poised. Dressed in your favorite color and settled into your space on the page, you became luminous among your companions. Serene in sound.

It is a new favorite memory, the image of you finding your way home.

Love, Mom

Tagged: Daughter, Music, Musings