Upperclassmen were terrifying at that time. Look at me, itty bitty, timid, new to everything. Auditioning on a whim. Actually getting the spot. Walking in for my first rehearsal with the symphony, scared out of my mind.
But goodness was it fun. Oh it was one of the best things I've ever done. There was only time for three rehearsals, but the world sometimes finds time for gorgeous things. The world also finds time for immense self-doubt and self-loathing, but that also presents itself most of the time so that's really nothing special, is it?
The concert itself is only the second part of a larger exhibition of the program. I accompany a few soloists as the night goes on. I meet you as everyone files out of the performing arts center during the intermission, a little surprised that you'd actually made it. You didn't usually make it to anything I was performing in until now.
In the hall backstage, right before I head on, my orchestra director tells me that the choir director wants to ask me to be their next accompanist. I twist my finers and briefly mourn the profit I have made thus far (a flat rate of zero USD) because it's funny. And then I go on. There's nothing left to do then, except for to play.
Piano Concerto in A Minor by Edvard Grieg, movement I. "I paid for the whole piano, I'll use the whole piano." And I wonder how you felt watching me. Of course, you told me soon after. But I'd wondered, briefly, during the cadenza--what do you see of me now?--if you'd remember this. Playing, performing just as practiced, thinking, "don't look away." At that point in time, I'd wanted to keep your attention forever.
I'm not a virtuoso by any means. But I think I did enough for you to be looking at me--wearing a burgundy-colored dress, performing the biggest piece of my life thus far, ending to a standing ovation.
And yes, that time has already long passed away. The beginning chords grew to be played by everyone, in turn becoming loathed by my orchestra director. I moved onto different pieces. We moved onto different worlds altogether. Everything changed, and everything stayed the same. The pain of practice faded gently into the past. The beautiful performance became a beautiful memory.
But, you know. It, all of it, at that time, it was just for you.