The Beginnings of a Dream

I can't believe it.... I'm driving home from my piano lesson with a cello in the back seat of my car. Not just any cello...a PURPLE cello! Oh, good grief, what did I just do?! I don't even know how to play!

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Six months prior, I was in a music store in Johnson City, Tennessee, while my husband was looking at guitars, straps, and other miscellaneous things for his hobby. I had been piddling around with guitar, but I knew I wasn't very good, and my heart was just not in it. I had been a flutist for 30 years, but stopped playing soon after my children were born. Meandering around in the back of the store, there it was... a lone cello on a stand. The beautiful, aged red-brown wood, topped with a black fingerboard, sitting on a stand in the corner. Should I? I don't really know anything about cello.

I shrugged, looked for the bow I knew they would have nearby, and carefully lifted the instrument out of its stand. It was lighter than I had expected for its size. I sat down on a low stool, and laid it gently across my lap. I knew from all the instrumentalists I had been around over the years that it would have an endpin. I reached down, turned the screw, and extended the pin to about a foot, and gently set the cello down on the floor on its endpin. It felt comfortable. It felt... RIGHT. I don't even know how I knew to do it, but I gently tightened the screw on the end of the bow, took a deep breath, and gently pulled it across a string.

I had no idea what I was doing and I was sure I was doing it wrong, whatever IT was... but out came a solid, steady tone that took my heart instantly. I pulled the full length of the bow once again, then stopped, lifted it, and gently pulled it across the next string to the right. A lower, but equally beautiful, tone sang out. As I continued to pull, I closed my eyes and felt the vibration across my body, and sat and waited until it stopped ringing. I felt at home, at peace. I said a small prayer and got a very clear response... "Not yet. It's not time." So, I obeyed and put the beautiful cello back on its stand, and returned the bow to the wall. I knew it meant that I would likely never see them again, but I knew better than to fight it. I laid my hand on the warm wood, and lamented a bit.

My husband came over and asked if I wanted to get the cello. With a heavy heart, I told him that it wasn't time, but that sometime in the future, it was going to come into my life. We turned and walked out of the store, and he looked at me and said, with a little awe, "You really made that thing sound beautiful!" I smiled and thanked him, and let my thoughts drift, wondering when it would be time...

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After two years of driving a tractor-trailer (don't even ask...) and a year of playing piano, I decided to look for a teacher and started taking it more seriously. I interviewed one teacher, but it just didn't feel quite "right." My daughter had an English teacher that took piano lessons, so I sent her an e-mail and asked her who she took lessons from. I called him, set up an appointment for the following week, and started practicing.

I walked into the music studio, greeted by the cats he'd told me he had... and a cello. There it was. A purple cello. "Of all the things I could run across coming into my piano lesson...." I smiled, walked past it, paused at the corner and looked again, then continued into my lesson. During the lesson, we talked about goals and music (and the purple cello), and I played what I knew on the piano for him. We had a great time, and I knew it was a good fit. The timer went off, signaling the end of my lesson and his next student arrived. I hung around in the entry, talking to the boy's grandmother, and used the lame excuse to myself that I just wanted to make sure I had ordered the right books.

He saw right through me. He took the cello off the stand, tuned it close to pitch, and laid her in my arms. He tightened the bow and handed it to me, and I once again pulled the bow across the strings. I closed my eyes and disappeared into her sound filling the room. I opened my eyes and looked at my new teacher. "She likes you..." He showed me immediately how to play a scale, after which I handed the cello back to him. I was afraid to ask how much... "Only $300, and that includes the cello, bow, stand, soft bag, and an extra set of strings." I texted my husband, and fully expected him to say no... He didn't. "Get it if you want it." I couldn't reason my way out of it. We had the money, and now that I had left my trucking job, I definitely had the time.

I sat back down, and my teacher handed me back the cello and bow. I pulled the bow once again, twice, then stood up and half-heartedly handed the cello back to him with the intention of leaving it behind. He smiled, with a mirth in his eye that I knew, all the while sliding the soft case over the cello. He loosened the bow hair and gently tucked the bow into the pocket on the case, never breaking eye contact. He handed me the cello, the stand, and then he smiled wider. "You can pay me later." I walked out to my car, cello in hand... and the dream began.

It's time.