Music Muscle Memory

When I was about 11 years old, I chose band as my elective in middle school. Back then, I had the option to choose and elective in music, sports, or the arts. Having had a little experience in piano, I knew that band was going to be an easy choice for me. Of course, like many other little girls interested in music, I chose flute, so cliché I know.

IMG_2426Anyway, I stumbled upon some old music books for flute, as I was waiting for Piano Man to complete his lesson. In that stack, I immediately recognized a familiar old blue book. (See photo on left.)

I couldn’t believe that my first flute book was here! It brought a flood of memories: embouchure, music theory, chromatic scales, and the dreaded hours of practicing. And let’s not forget those finger-prickling seconds when you know you are next in the regional flute competition.

Although I still have my instrument back in the States, I haven’t practiced in over a decade. However, I do remember pulling it out for Piano Man about a year ago when he wanted to hear me play.

My embouchure was long gone, but the muscle memory in my fingers remained. I could still play a chromatic scale almost to the top two notes before cringing. It wasn’t pretty, but at least I could still play.

As I sit and listen to Piano Man talk and play with his piano teacher, I curl a little smile hearing him enjoy the lesson and learning something new each week. I may not play an instrument anymore, but long after my band days, I have an appreciation for music because of my teachers and music directors. I hope Piano Man (and Linus someday) can come to a place where they have a love for music well into their adult years.

IMG_2429(Photo: I remember this piece when I was in 6th grade. It’s funny how the memory can conjure up those feelings from something so familiar.)


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