Reminiscence

     I remember that cold winter evening. I remember I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, or was about to do. I remember, inside my mind played the usual Mozart Violin Concerto No. 3, played by Hilary Hahn, the one I have been listening for the whole past semester. I remember that I remembered Hahn played the piece for the pope's birthday, live-broadcasted around the globe. I remember the memory discomforting me even more in my unusual black dress, holding my instrument with hands wet from sweat, staring at rows of portable seats that were empty a few hours before. I remember catching some familiar glances filled with excitement - and instinctively turning away from them. I remember the stage was bright - so bright that everyone had to squint to see - but the air was freezing cold, while my back felt so hot from the self-heating pads which my mom attached while I dressed in my new clothes. I remember, my heart raced.

     Have you ever felt as if you were born again, completely new to your life? You are as you were, but suddenly the world is silenced - leaving your heartbeat - that 'lub dub' - sound louder than ever. You know you have not passed out, that the world still has colors besides white, and that you are still the same 'you', but everything seems so new. The school gym you used to know even before you got to school, the members of the orchestra that you have been playing music with for at least two years, the conductor whom you have definitely fought with the most for the past couple months, and yourself reflected in the looking-glass. You are so new - but that is not because your mind is so blank, it is just that everything changed to be made suitable for the day. Is this so important, you wonder, for all these people to be busied, just for the event? But soon some important-looking figures arrive, wearing their suits so black that you wonder if they were absorbing all the colors existing. You glance at your friend, who mouths you "the mayor". You roll your eyes - since when were classical music concerts so interesting for so many people to come? Since when was the government so interested in our school that they decide to come, dedicate on the night of the brink of the year? Unwillingly accepting the reality, you go back to the stage, playing that video of Hahn displaying the delicate memory again and again inside your mind. You know nothing really happened, but feel the temperature dropping as the night approaches.

     I find the percussion team waiting for their stage. Their giggles irritated me - maybe it derived from their confidence in performing. Maybe it was because it was their first time receiving so much attention. Maybe it was because they had no solos, but were sharing the spotlight. I could not guess which was the answer, but felt my heart racing harder every second. Perhaps a last-minute practice might help, I thought to myself, and started fingering the notes on my violin. But time flew, soon I was on stage, and discovered everything ended as I was playing the last note. Oh no, I'm totally screwed was my first thought. Maybe no one heard me play. Hopefully no one will remember. Maybe it all was a dream. Maybe when I wake up, everything will be fine, and I would have another chance to play it better.

     If one could feel the time stop, that was when I felt it stop. Everything was so still for a moment. My face was red and hot, more than anything for a moment. Then slowly the clap began. The audience clapped for a moment. I caught a few smiles from some familiar faces. For a while.

     I have no remembering how I played that night. I was unwilling to find out, though I did have a video clip, and probably never will. But I can say this for sure - that the experience was so strong, and that I will remember the night.