Last week, I had a post in mind and was eager to start on it the morning after inspiration struck, but then I was distracted by the Chilean mine rescue and soon could think of nothing else. I’m going to revisit that post and hope I can recollect the inspiration I initially had for it.
This summer at my work, we had a beautiful, responsible, very fun high schooler come in who wanted to volunteer. You would have thought she was an employee, for as much time as she spent there. We gave her the task of organizing our two libraries, a task too daunting and time consuming for my boss or I to even consider tackling. She dove in with ease and after weeks of hard work, she had it neatly arranged, purged (I think the world’s entire collection of Harlequin romance novels was stashed in those libraries), and labeled. She was a godsend.
In between the hours spent buried in books, she would take some breaks and hang out in our office. I soon was caught up on her high school world of boys (hard to keep them all straight), fashion (this girl knows how to dress and accessorize. I need her to take me shopping), thoughts of college, and school. I often find teenagers tiring and too self absorbed to spend too much time around them (I must be old. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be that young), but it was different with her. She was a breath of fresh air. Her energy gave me some energy.
When she started school, we began to see less of her as she focused on her studies. Stupid school. We always lose our best volunteers that way. She came in a couple afternoons a week to help though, and when she came in, she would excitedly tell me about her choir class and what music they were doing. Then she invited me to come to their fall concert, which I promptly put in my calendar. When the time rolled around, I went. And loved it.
When I walked in and sat down, I was almost immediately taken back to my high school days. I am not fond of many of my high school memories, remembering awkward teenage-dom and insecure feelings of trying to fit in. But when I remember choir life, it makes me smile. I remember getting new pieces and diligently trying to learn them. I remember working together with the other 50 voices, trying to blend as one. I remember weird warm ups that soon became routine. I remember being uniquely inspired by music, and although I had no idea at the time, this was the seed that started my love for music and encouraged me to pursue it.
As I watched each choir perform, some on stage and some in the back of the auditorium, I found myself missing those choir pieces. I enjoy singing in a band and trying some new styles of music, but I really do miss that four part harmony. I watched as choirs scurried up the aisles to get in place, some giggling to each other, and I remembered that excitement before performing. Walking back to my car, there was a group of girls falling over each other as they relived memories of the performance. They giggled about some part that they found funny during the performance. I smiled, remembering doing that very same thing some thirteen (yikes) years ago.
I hope to someday join a community choir to be able to sing this music again. Sadly, this time of my life isn’t allowing much flexibility and I know I can’t handle much else in my schedule. Hopefully soon…