As
soon as Mary walks through our front door, the only comment she can make is, “Your
family has a lot of musical
instruments! Do you all play?”
“Kind
of. Everyone in my family can play the piano at least, but then we each have
our other instruments we lean towards.” The stack of instruments in the corner
of our living room, full of strings and woodwinds, gave away the fact that our
family was musically inclined. We were that
family who was always asked to give all of the musical numbers in sacrament
meeting during church when they wanted one, but didn’t know who else to call.
We knew there were other people, but they never came forward and admitted it in
public. If someone didn’t play at least the piano or sing in the choir, they
felt like an outcast. My mom had this rule in our family: you had to take piano
lessons for at least five years growing up, then you were allowed to quit, or
move on to another instrument. My brother quit, while I started learning the violin.
The
moment we moved to a new place, it was always the same situation—as soon as the
word was out that we could play and sing, the following Sunday we were doing a
musical number in church.
This kind of sounds miserable.. for me at least. I am interested to see where this goes - if it turns into a positive or if this is an into to something more dramatic and hard hitting.
ReplyDeleteI like how you include some of the back story here so that the reader can understand how important this is in your life. It is clear that music plays a large part of your life and I am interested to see how that has impacted your life in this essay.
ReplyDeleteThis was pretty relatable to me haha, it seems like this kind of thing happens often outside of Utah. You did a great job with the dialogue.
ReplyDelete