I Miss You

Pre-concert selfie anyone?

I've mentioned before, that I belong to the Timmins Symphony Orchestra chorus and we've been working on Brahms' Requiem.  My relationship with this piece has been rocky.  In January, I was up for the challenge.  In February, I wasn't in love.  In March, I considered quitting.  In April I buckled down.  In May, I went to rehearsal, bought a black dress, went to rehearsal, went to rehearsal, drank fluids, drank fluids, drank fluids, went to rehearsal, felt certain we would flop, went to rehearsal, felt only marginally reassured, showed up early to help set up, warmed up, filed on stage, and sang.  For an hour and a half all I can see is the conductor's baton.  The cathedral is packed.  Neighbours are snugged up to neighbours in crowded pews.  Curls and earrings and bowties, the heft of my score, the gleam of the trombones, and warm polished wood, but I focus on the stick.  He likes to say, "Graphite is cheap," and I take that seriously.  My margins are full of shorthand, but as we move through the piece, I read each message with what is already nostalgia, "Ah, yes!  This bit is to be buoyant with lots of consonants," "You tend to go flat here," "He slows here so watch closely," "Don't drag," "Don't speed," "Turn the page quickly."  I'm grieving each note as it leaves my throat even as I thrill to each new bar and suddenly, it is over.  There is applause and it is time to close my book. 

Now, nearly a week later, I miss it and find myself singing it as I go to sleep and make the bread and grocery shop.