Giving in to nostalgia this evening.
When I listen to recordings of our performances from high school, it’s a sensory experience beyond just listening to the sound from the speakers, and in this case, watching the video of us playing. I’m there all over again. I remember the end of the scroll of my violin, the silence before the piece, the shakiness of my hands, the smell of rosin right after I put it on my bow, the lights, the sound of Mr. Mairs’ inhale, the feeling of being surrounded by resonating sound from every direction, the tuning “A,” the goofy glares from behind our stands. And as I listen, I unintentionally breath as though my violin is in my hands and I’m there all over again. Very, very cool.
Far from perfect, but perfect all the same.