Tom Sawyer

A litte less than three weeks ago, I received a facebook message, asking if I'd be interested in accompanying our local youth theater's production of 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer' on the piano.  Opening night was 10 days away. 

My first reaction:  Umm... are you kidding??

A few minutes later:  Could I even do it?  Is it even a possibility?  (It was a big time commitment.  I would need to be at tech week rehearsals four weeknights in a row, and then three performances.) 

A few minutes after that:  Maybe I could do it.  Maybe I'd even enjoy it.  Maybe...

48 hours later:  Done deal.  Committed.  I said 'yes'. 

72 hours later:  Completely freaking out.  What the heck did I get myself into?!?!? 

The freaking out subsided over the next couple of days as I practiced and felt more comfortable with the music.

Going to rehearsals and being with a completely different group of people than I normally hang out with turned out to be a much-needed escape for me.  Escape from the heaviness of grief.  And something to 'look forward to'.  It was kind of like a goal - I could get up in the mornings and know that at 6pm, I had to be somewhere.  I had to be functioning, clean, wearing something other than pajamas, ready to focus, and prepared to play. 

I so needed it.  I think my husband and kids needed for me to need it, too.

The third night into tech week, the conductor and 4 other instrumentalists joined me.  They played the acoustic guitar, upright bass, violin, and mandolin.  They were all (conductor included)... college guys. 

So there I was with the mini-orchestra, and the first time we were all seated together and ready to play, I thought, 'I'm the oldest person up here.  I am the oldest person up here.  Oh. My. Goodness.  I'm a frumpy mom!!!'

The next night, the banjo man came.  I was very relieved to give up my title of  'oldest person in the orchestra'.

Overall, it was a good experience.  The performances went well and the youth did a great job.  I was able to remain sort of anonymous.  Almost no one knew who I was or the circumstances of my life.  It was a relief to go and be in a strange place with (mostly) strangers doing something I don't normally do. 

Only one moment really caught me off guard.  Up until the third night of tech week, I played all of the songs without any other instrumentalists.  I really didn't pay much attention to the words.  I didn't see much of what the characters were doing while they were singing.  The first night the guys came and played with me, a little over halfway through the play, I started a song - it was Aunt Polly's solo, a slower song, and my music said 'piano solo' on the first page.  So it just didn't even dawn on me that the other instruments might come in at some point during the song.  But they did.  The acoustic guitar, and the bass, and the violin - the piano solo turned into a small orchestral arrangement.  And it was beautiful.  So beautiful.  It brought tears to my eyes.

Then I started to listen to what Aunt Polly was singing.  And that really did me in. 

And then I remembered where I was and who was sitting around me.  And I felt really silly.  Shining moment for the frumpy mom.

As much as I tried to deny it for that week, music still moved me.  I had become sort of numb that week - feeling like I needed to hold my emotions in check.  There were several times I wanted to cry, and I couldn't - the tears would not come.  But that night, when the music stirred up the emotions I'd been burying, it was almost a relief.  I hadn't become completely numb.  The emotion was there.  The tears were there.  Grief was still there.  Losing Elliana still hurt.  That moment of 'weakness' helped me.

I don't know if I will ever see most of those people again.  They may never know how much I needed them.  Or, in my eyes, what that week was about.  It wasn't just about me being a part of something for them.  It was so much bigger than that.  They were a part of something for me.