Heart of Melody
My hands played, my ears carefully listened, and my heart enjoyed. The music flowed through every part of me; just like any other day. Some say performing is nerve-racking, others say scary, and few say enjoyable. I thought nothing of performing. I was never scared, worried, embarrassed, or crazily excited. To me, performing was a way of life, a part of me. Which, brings me to my very first recital.
“Time to go,” my mom yelled from the other room. We were already running late and no way was I going to be late for my very first piano recital.
As my mom was frantically running around trying to get my little brothers in the car she passed by me. “Jessica! I thought you said you were dressed for your recital.”
“I am,” was my immediate response.
“You need to get your dress on right now or we will be late.”
I didn’t understand why anyone would need to dress fancy when they were just doing what they love. Wasn’t it like any other day, only in front of more people? It didn’t make sense. “Why, Mom, do I have to dress up?”
“That’s what people do when they perform; it’s common sense,” She answered.
Hurriedly I ran to put on my dress so we could leave. We couldn’t wait another second and risk being late.
Once we were all in the car ready to leave, my mom asked if I had my music. “Mom, why in the world would I need my music? I have my song memorized.”
“Well, you never know when you might mess up a little bit or lose your spot.”
“I already told you, I have my song memorized!”
“Well, how about I just run in and grab your music just in case you end up needing it.”
“I promise I don’t need it; my song is memorized!”
“Sometimes though, when you get up on the stage your mind goes blank because you get a little scared.”
“Why would I be scared?”
My mom, regretting she even put that kind of a thought in my head and amazed I wasn’t the least bit nervous for my first time performing replied, “I don’t know? You shouldn’t be scared.”
“Ok. So can leave now?”
“Are you sure you don’t want your music?”
“Of course not!” I replied for about the hundredth time.
Pretty soon we arrived at the recital hall where the performances were to be held. Hard metal chairs were lined up with the grand piano on the stage. My mom got the family sitting down and settled on the cold, hard chairs; then left to go talk to my piano teacher.
My mom asked, “Should Jessica have brought her music?”
All my piano teacher replied was “Yes, just in case, considering it is her first recital. Sometimes even my most experienced students make mistakes and need their music as a back up.”
“Well,” said my mom, “Jessica refused to bring her music, let alone allow me to hold on to it.”
“Hopefully she won’t need her music,” was the thought that lingered in their heads.
Towards the top of the program lay my name. Being a beginner, I wouldn’t have to wait long because my piano teacher usually placed the more experienced and accomplished players towards the end to create a grand finale. I could hardly wait! The lights dimmed and turned off, as the spotlight shone brightly over the piano. Man, was I excited. Everyone watching from the audience would hear the piece I had completely mastered. I couldn’t sit still; I just wanted to be up at the piano the whole time. That seemed much more amusing than sitting and trying to pay attention. In the mean time, I sat drumming my fingers to the beat and drawing art masterpieces all over the program. Over the space of what felt like an eternity, I felt someone nudge my shoulder. It was finally my turn to be up on stage doing what I loved most, playing music.
The long-awaited moment had arrived; my reaction was automatic. My legs thrust me from my seat into the isle. I continued my journey to the piano. The piano sat there grand, and reflected the spotlights in its shiny, black coating. I situated myself on the bench and rested my little hands on the long row of white and black keys. Then, with the press of a key, I was into my music. My mind strayed from the thought of how many people were watching me. It was just me and the piano. There was no way I could lose my spot or make a mistake. My hands, my ears, my mind, and my heart had memorized the music. Every chord lingered in my head as my hands just played what they were used to. I held out the last chord until it faded, trying to absorb the feelings of a grand applause and a flawless performance.
To this day, I can’t comprehend the idea of why anyone would get scared of doing what they love in front of others. Does it really matter what anyone else thinks of you? As long as you have a good time it is worth every second, despite any mistakes or problems that might occur. Enjoy what you do, and don’t let anyone or anything come between that. “Live the life you love, and love the life you live” (anonymous).