Curtain Call

By: Cynthia Litman

Pearl: Acceptance Bow

Plato believed in the power of music with pearls like "music is the language of the soul."

Music ignites all the senses. It's seen, sung, heard, felt and in a crowded concert even smelled.

Parenthood is a great symphony slash heavy metal concert. 

If I put my motherhood journey to music it would be quite a tune. It starts off silently with an adagio newborn theme overlaid with sleepy panicked mom notes. Then gently finds its rhythm as the family gets in sync.

The beat develops and grows louder and when baby number two comes there's more instruments added to the medley. Lots of rolling sounds interweaving on top of each other. Then there's long drifting beats of silent pauses. Until it starts up again.

Something else happens with music. A sound can drop you right into a particular place in time.

Music connects with our memories. Like musical montages in a movie, the music carries you from one major life moment to the next.

During my son's winter concert I had such a MoMent.

To my left sat my father and to my right my husband. It brought up so many memories of curtains opening and closing in my life. My dad has sat through his fair share of school plays and orchestra concerts. I played the violin from elementary to high school.

Learning a new song was scary and exciting. The notes on the page was a puzzle to solve. I'd hear the tune in my head but had no clue how to play it. Tentatively I'd play the first note and wait until it made sense and I connected. When you hit the notes, that's when the magic happened.

Your improvement as a musician as in any sport, hobby or practice is unmistakably measured.

You pick up your stride and become a master in your expertise. Measure for measure I went from squeaking to making some pretty darn good music. I rotated in the 2nd and 3rd chair during my time in the orchestra (and yes there were more than 3 violinists).

I regret setting my fiddle down. I've tried to resurrect it but it hasn't been pretty.

My son always took to music since our Mommy and me days.

There he stood amongst his peers in his concert uniform - white button down shirt, dark pants and tie. I, in the audience with tears welling up. His time upon this earth flashed in sync with the music. 9.5 years played out in but a few minutes of song.

He stood proud but nervous in the chorus.

He performed four times this holiday season. The first time he was so nervous and did not want to go on stage and do it. Before he began, I saw him take a few deep breaths, he remembered that's our practice together when he's nervous.

The beat of our breath rising up to meet the moment. 

After the first few bars, he visibly relaxed into his performance. Not fully though, he still looked a bit tense up in front of an audience. But he rolled with it and sang on. He's learning.

He's come such a long way. He is developing a comfort level in himself and in his abilities.

In that moment, I realized for the first time in a long time that where I was, was exactly where I was meant to be.

Many moons ago, I wished upon the stars for my future. To live in a beautifully diverse neighborhood with my happy delicious children.

I spent so much time worrying over the past 7 disharmonious years whether I was where I should be. 

I looked to move many times. Something always kept us bound to our town. Colby has changed schools almost as frequently as we've moved homes to find harmony. I sought to understand why.

Somehow the medley of our 7 year mash up was finally sweet music to my ears. My wishes were granted.

And my boy, well, he always marched to his own beat.

As he took his bow at his final concert of the season and 2015 draws to a close, I gratefully exhaled into the present. 

(c) 2015 Cynthia Litman. All Rights Reserved. 


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