when i cried for beauty, sadness, and fear

so our last orchestra concert was yesterday night, and it was probably the most emotional i have gotten in a long, long while. we played beautifully, and that's great given we'd messed up almost every other concert this year. it was heartbreaking. something in the air--the hands of winds that pitied us--carried our fingers and hands, carried our emanating vibrations into marvelous symphony. mr. parsons even said that it was the best we've ever played the brook green suite before, and by listening to my mom's recording, i'd have to agree. we're a modest orchestra--modest meaning small and meaning modestly talented--but when things just click, they click.

at first i was angry because this concert was mainly for the band, and only featured us, but then i got over it and realized that the band is comprised of kids who make this their lives, and that they have more of a right to it than we did. we were lucky to have played for the 30 min we got, given that most of us don't practice as much as we should, and don't have music theory lining the invisible walls around us at any point in the day.

al specifically had us seniors (there were fewer of us than i imagined) stand up to be applauded for our musical graduating year, and with tina standing next to me i was extremely tempted to cry. i looked over to the rest of the orchestra, kids like phoebe, angie, ana, and kyle, and i just felt like i was going to miss them so so much. to be a part of the music in my life gives you a position above most people, regardless of whether or not we converse outside of the music room often. music is in me, somewhere deep, and it will never go away. (my heart beats in 3/4, i know it, because my life is a beautiful waltz, and rises and falls with the moon and the sun, with love and passion. my body is my cello. my soul aches to sound. it's all encapsulated within me and something needs to let it out so that i can be as talented as i should be.)

tina did start to cry, which pushed me closer to tears, but i didn't want to admit that it was as horribly sad a moment as it was, i just didn't. being stand partners meant so much to me, more than it ever would seem. tina and i had (have) this bond over music that has developed so fully over the year, that i feel like i can't take her falling out of my life. i don't know how i'll be able to play cello without her.

and then there's ana, who i've been in orchestra with since she was in 6th grade. and now it really won't work out that way any longer. (unless one day we're both in the la phil together, playing our hearts out in the gorgeous hollywood bowl.) i wanted to tell her how much i'll miss her. but i didn't. because i didn't want to admit that it was as horribly sad a moment as it was, i just didn't.

we had a cello hug, phoebe, tina, kyle, and i. i wanted to cry and hug them harder than i've ever hugged anyone, so i could squeeze parts of them into myself and take them with me. i wanted to tell them that i love them and that i'll never forget them, but i didn't. because i didn't want to admit that it was as horribly sad a moment as it was, i just didn't.

and now i'm scared, because the music in my life is gone, and i don't know if i'm good enough to keep it going. i don't know if i'll make it into any orchestra at swarthmore. i don't know if my meager talent will be taken seriously. i don't know if i'll be able to get private lessons, which i need so much. i don't know if i'll even have my own cello.

so last night was so much more than it was, so much more than it was. i kept a smile on because i want to push those tears back as far as i can until they can't stay anymore, because telling someone you'll miss them is the most painful thing you ever have to do. losing someone is the most horrible thing you have to do.

and losing someone who played the waltz that your heart beats in 3/4 to is the most traumatic thing your poor heart ever has to do.