Everyone loves presents, so do I. Every present has its exact worth.
Early in the morning, I was sitting on a bench in a park. The park, magical on its own, with the colourful autumn leaves, but with a thin layer of pearly snow over them; the sun rising at 7 a.m., colouring the sky, once again, in autumn colours. It was cold, my scarf warming me up, and my hair not in a fancy hairstyle but just put down, parts of it falling into my face right in front of my eyes, was warming me too. Once the sun, more glorious than ever, came up, so did I. I got up with my bag around my shoulder, running with a pastry I was eating for breakfast in my mouth, realizing I was late. Late to class, of course. The beauty of the city makes time feel like frozen. Frozen just like the weather. Running on a cold day like that, just to be on time may or may not be the best option.
I saw a boy with dark hair gaze at me with a look that said nothing but pure judgement.
Music classes were amazing. I felt music, and when you feel music, music also feels you. Like so, every piano practice I did, and classes I took were amazing. Today, though, music theory was on the menu. I was good at it, but it wasn't as near as magical as playing the music. Without the theory, you would not be able to play, so no, you can't get through without it. If it is a theory day, it is also a playing-from-mind day, which means practicing, let alone the notes, no cheating. Tomorrow was an upcoming concert, my not-first but second time playing with a philharmonic orchestra.
And so, I was practicing by mind, so it was a little harder; the glorious sun setting itself, its lover moon coming up, making the streets of the city shine. The city always shines.
The day of the concert has risen this time in lush life colours, colouring the sky in shades of purple, leaving only a teeny bit of sky its daily sky-blue colour. Excatly the colours of the dress I was going to wear. It was long, fairy-like, purple with blue glitter popping up here and there. With thin, short satin sleeves, it looked what you'd imagine lush life. That beautiful dress was waiting for me, hanging in my closet. I felt like I was being called by it, just by looking at it. I was, in fact, being called. Maybe I realized it too late, but I forgot to pick up my shoes from the shop. The dress would be incomplete without them, so I grabbed my bag and rushed downstairs from my apartment. Flying like a bird, I realized I grabbed my bag with music sheets, but that won't be a problem.
Or will it?
The colourful sky was now grey and dirty. Rain was pouring down from the sky that once looked like a glittering dream. I had no other way to go to the store than by walking. And, as I was walking, the rain pouring down on me made me think of washing my hair once again before the show. I made it to the store. It was only a walk through the park I sat in yesterday. Opening the door and greeting everyone in the small room of remarkably pretty shoes, I went to the staff and asked for my order: glitter purple heels. The employee looked at me, once again, like everyone else, with pure judgement, probably because of my wet clothes and hair.
The shoes were secured. Lying in my bag, between the notes.
As I got out of the store, getting right to the park, I saw ton of papers lying on the grass. They were dripping wet, destroyed, and they were mine. My music sheets, for tonight's concert.
The shoes are still secured, lying in my bag, next to one sheet of music that didn't fall while I was speedwalking. I don't have a copy of the notes, and I can't play without them. Yes, I know the programme, I can play it by heart, every pianist should. But notes are here because I don't play alone. In my case, I play with the philharmonic orchestra, with a hundred of other musicians. And we all play it by heart, with the notes in front of us. That is the rule, unless you play with them for years, always have notes. I just went home, walking very slowly, because the rain stopped. I only remember the torn paper with spilled ink. I looked around, trying to find something to cheer me up. I failed beacuese succeding would mean finding a solution. I only saw the dark-haired boy from yesterday, looking at me this time, not with judgement, but with sadness. He felt me, or I thought so.
Evening came, and I was getting ready. Doing my makeup, I was shaking, scared of what would happen tonight. I was putting on some eyeshadow. It was, of course, purple with blue glitter. That reminded me of the lush life sunrise. I can play by heart, that is not a problem, but I must feel free. It is music, music is supposed to make you feel like that. Make you feel like flying, touching the moon, sun's lover. I put on my necklace. And that made me think of this as well, because of the purple star on it. Lush, moon, stars. I need to feel like touching the moon, kissed by the stars tonight. Last thing, the shoes.
It was now evening, but not the sunset, colourful eveniing. The evening was caressed by the stars. I was in a classroom, standing next to the piano chair. Its 88 black and white keys were looking at me, waiting to be played. I sat on the piano chair, just about to put my hands on the monochrome. Someone was knocking. Opening the door, I first saw a forehead covered with dark, short waves. "I saw you dropped something." the park boy handed me a bunch of notes. It was the concerto I was about to start playing. "I own a lot of music books, and I saw you today, running and dropping your notes in the rain. Then I saw you are playing tonight, and you might not know me, but I go here." Here, meaning the music academy. The notes really were correct, and he taped the sheets together. All I could say was: "Thank you." He smiled, nodded and shouted while exiting, "Good luck!"
I was back on track, my heart pounding with excitement. Standing in the backstage of a wonderful concert hall I was ready for everything. One, two, three... I was on stage. The hall was full, everyone looking at me. The applause, on the other had, was even more wonderful. I bowed and sat in front of the grand piano and looked to my left. The orchestra was amazing, with groups of various iinstruments; they were all looking at the conductor. And so did I. After the first accord, nothing more was needed. I touched the sky. The music was glorious, echoing every bit of the hall, amazingly delicately touching each of the listeners. To me, it felt like all the glitter of the dress, the eyeshadow, the shoes, everything was coming off and flying around magically. One small act of kindness made my worries disappear, unseen, unfelt. Second concerto, same composer but different. This opposite now made me feel something else, the orchestra now playing every note forte with tension I never thought was possible before. This piece flew even faster. Once it ended, the conductor was preparing us for the last piece. I poured everything I had into that piece, spending my last minutes wisely so I don't regret them later. Minutes passed, and we arrived at the coda. Last time to shine, and so I did. Last accord made all the glitter lie back in its place, and I got up, bowing to the applause. It was loud and long, which made me bow three more times. Then I went backstage, breathing heavily but with pride.
Coming back to the classroom, getting my bag and coat, I got out, meeting the boy once again. "Thank you, I don't know what to say." He had no clue how much he helped me. He just smiled with no response, got into the classroom and sat iin the piano chair. He started playing my favourite piece. I played it years ago, but never forgot it; it was a part of me holding my most valuable memories. He looked at me, stopped playing the right hand, but not the left. I had no other choice than to join him. And so, I sat, we sat, and played the piece, now creating even more memories to hold with it. Yes, it was late, but I achieved my dream, feeling like spreading my wings next to the moon, between the star.