It was always there; the black case in the basement. Always collecting dust, seemingly daunting to a five year old. Something you can’t have is enticing. Sitting on an old top shelf, for who knows how long, it probably wasn’t the best violin. But I didn’t know that. I felt as if it was something I had always wanted to do. Obviously I was only five, but I felt as if I knew what I wanted to do.
Some of those feelings may be attributed to how much I idolized my aunt. She was funny, active, and had kids who I could play with. What more could you want? Later I found that she wasn’t perfect, but who is. I found that idolization was transferred directly to that old dusty case. I felt like I would be so sophisticated if I …show more content…
We signed up and were scheduled for weekly classes. The first lesson was more of an interview. Unfortunately, We soon found out that my aunt's violin was not in its prime condition, so we couldn’t do much with it.
“How long have you had this violin?” asked Mrs. Patterson.
I started to respond, “I just got i-”
By my mom interrupted, knowing I would not know the correct answer. “A long time,” she said. “It has just been sitting in our basement,”
That week we went to a luthier - a sort of violin handyman - and they changed the hair on the bow, and the strings. This was yet another learning curve, learning how many parts and details there is in the instrument. It is so intricate and beautiful, yet tight and strong. This all comes together to make the beautiful music you hear everywhere.
I never imagined that I would come so far with the instrument. Now here I am, with 11 years of violin playing under my belt. I now look at my very own violin with all of the stories it contains, and the love of music is all compacted into the one instrument. The long neck, curling into the scroll. The dark, grained wood smooth down the back. How the bow draws down onto the strings with force yet fluidity. This is my instrument and my