The Recital

Today we were out running another birthday errand: raiding the dollar store for all monster truck paraphernalia. Atrain so excited. I love his February birthday. It gives me a lot to look forward to when winter’s shadow starts to strangle me. On our way home we called my sister in law, “Famous,” to make plans for the weekend. As we wrapped up our Superbowl conversation (without even mentioning who we care to win—we don’t, we just care about artichoke dip) she mentioned that their family was headed to the twins’ violin recital and we were welcome to come along. Atrain perked up. He loves the twin sisters, “Bubbins” and “Beekles,” and so do I. It was only 4:00, the husband wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours and leftovers were on the menu anyway, so why not?

We arrived at the Salt Lake City Recital Hall feeling a little silly that we were in jeans, but excited to see the twins’ premiere performance, nonetheless. Atrain nestled right in with their family on the first couple of rows while I fed the Jdog in the back. Then, the performances began. Teenagers played complex concertos. Tots twiddled tricky tunes. As I sat at the back basking in the beauty of a Brahms duet, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to play the violin like that with my sister. I also imagined how adorable my husband must have looked at 4 years old when he played at his first recital.

Beekles was the first twin to perform. Her confident smile shined at her adoring audience as she carefully bowed “I’m a little monkey.” When she finished, she acknowledged her proud father at the piano and left the stage with a satisfied look on her face. Then, it was Bubbins’ turn. She pranced onto the stage with violin in tow, smiling directly at her father who sat at the piano. Once she was facing the audience she played to her heart’s content with beautiful improvisation after slight missteps, unaffected by the crowd. After the applause, she left the stage, handed her mother the violin and came directly to me to ask if she could hold baby J.

Atrain made himself merry throughout the recital: sometimes pulling silly faces as he danced on his tiptoes down the aisle, sometimes exploring with cousin “Zozo,” sometimes doodling with cousin “Smibbers.” He even made time in his busy schedule to sit on my lap and listen to the performances. As I held him I realized how long his legs stretched down mine. When I pressed my face against the back of his head I wondered how all of this sounded through his electronic ears. My heart ached a little when I admitted that I will never know.

“I have a violin at home,” he reminded me. Yes, Atrain, you do, and you will want to play it someday—just like the twins. Just like dada. It might be a little harder for you to play it, and it will scare me a little to let you. But if you want to, you can. I’ll encourage you. I will make you practice. I’ll never hold you back, as long as you never do, either.