The Day The Music Died

When I was around ten I remember thinking that when I got older everything would be so different. I remember this because I was reading Blubber and the little girl in the book writes that she thinks her costume makes her look at least twelve... Maybe even thirteen! I thought, "That is so old. I wonder what it feels like to be really old."

That's why I was so surprised as the years went by that I didn't feel any different. I was still me, only older. It seemed so strange to me that I didn't seem to change, only my age did. I thought I was going to be a totally different person when I got older and it was looking like I had been wrong about that. I would always be Becky, I would always be the same.

I think that's why I was so surprised (again) when a few years ago I turned into a totally different person. At least from my perspective. I suddenly started seeing myself differently than I had before. If I had often looked at myself as a smart person with limitless possibilities in front of me, I now saw myself as an average person with very few choices left to make. If I had used to believe that I was a passionate person with a lot to give the world I started believing that even if I had passion there were some things I couldn't change and the world would go on much the same with or without me.

I think one of my biggest image shifts has been a musical one. I used to think of myself as above average as far as musical talent goes. It was a big part of the definition of who I was. I've lost that in many ways. My flute, once such a big part of my life, is broken. I can't play it. I have nightmares about picking it up and not remembering the fingering... Or that my embouchure will be so poor that I won't even be able to make a sound. To many of you this may not sound like a big thing, but to a person who used to put in four hours a day of practice... It's a big thing. I never play my guitar anymore, I almost never bother writing down or recording the songs I write, and today my piano went away. I bought it with the intention of taking lessons so I could put actual written music to some of the songs I've written. Something more than chords anyways. I took some lessons. I think I would take more, but we can't fit it in the house so it had to go. As I watched the moving van pull away with my piano inside of it I felt the sobs building up inside of me. I thought I had said goodbye days ago. I sat in the cold garage and played through all of the songs I had written on it, then I closed the lid for the last time and walked away.

I feel like I am losing a part of myself. I guess it seemed like as long as I still owned the piano there was a possibility that I might do something with that part of me that aches to make music. That sounds so hokey, even to me, but it's true. Music is a part of who I am, and not just any music. My music.

So I guess I feel, in a way, like another little part of me is being changed forever today... That part that said I had a talent and that I was going to do something with it... And I wonder who I am without it.


  1. No comments on this one. I know it's just a piano. I know that it is possible that someday I could get another one. I know all the things you are thinking of telling me and right now I don't want to hear them. It doesn't help.


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