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Brian Kim
May 25 2010
English, Pd.4
Cello Solo

I will never forget the first time I performed a cello solo at school. It was the most nerve-racking yet wonderful experience I’ve had. As I walked into the building, the music kept on repeating itself in my head. I was able to visualize the wrinkled and faded sheet music and hear each beautiful note in my mind. Before the concert, I thought about how much I practiced that piece. My mother would tell me in a demanding voice “Go and practice cello!” , taking away my precious free time that I barely had. My mother was like the leader or general, while I was like a hard working soldier in the army doing drills. I would sit in my room, mostly during quiet evenings, and play away. The large violin, its deep brown color with red and orange tints shining in the fluorescent light in one hand and the long narrow stick of wood with white horse hairs in the other. I remember, I walked hard in that room, fixing minor mistakes and playing the piece over and over again until it was stuck in my heart, in my mind, and in my fingers. While thinking about these thoughts, I get called up to play.
The introduction was short and my heart was beating so fast. As I got up, I felt that my pants have gone up too, my socks visible. I wondered if I have gotten taller or if the navy blue pants got smaller in the wash. Just like those pants, I felt like I have gotten smaller with people looking down on me. I felt like I was a puny mouse, ready to run. But I couldn’t run away from this. It was impossible.
I pick up my cello, my bow, the sheet of music, and last of all myself. I walked towards the silver chair in front of the audience, with rust on some places. I look at the bleachers and searched for my parents. Finally I found them, my mother’s eyes gleaming and my dad’s face, showing as much pride as a soldier that has won a victory.
I placed the bow on the string of the cello and start playing. I can feel everyone’s eyes looking at me, mostly everyone’s ears listening to the sound of my cello. The sound was bittersweet, sorrowful and soulful, yet pleasing to the ear and the heart. I felt like my pants were getting tighter and tighter, my shirt also getting smaller and smaller, almost choking my throat. I had to play in discomfort but I couldn’t stop. The music had to be brought to the people. My heart didn’t calm down one bit and I felt like it was bouncing upwards, downwards, and sideways, ready to burst out of my heart and run. The butterflies that flew in my stomach were ready to get out too. I swayed to the music, my eyes closed for I have memorized the music by heart. It was all up to my hands.
I heard the last note and happiness filled me. I have faced a great challenge and conquered. The audience starts to clap, soft at first then loud. My parents stood up, my mother in tears and my father proudly nodding his head. I too, stood up, the butterflies flying from me. My hands tired and sweaty, my cello almost slipped from it. I walked away from the center, putting my cello down and sat back down at the bleachers. I received many “good job” ‘s and “you did great” ‘s along my way. I remembered telling myself it was all the hard work was worth it. It was worth seeing my parents proud and satisfied and being able to hear my father’s “you did well son.” I will never forget that cold and windy December day, when I was in the spotlight with all eyes on me.