from where i sit you're one of a kind

I did it. What did I do? I graduated high school, that's what. While I did not have a formal graduation, I did have a formal senior recital, at which my father handed me my diploma.

I started planning this recital a year ago, after my conservatory's Grand recital--I had just wrapped up my junior year. My piano teacher introduced the idea of doing a senior recital to me, and my thought was, "I have a whole year. I can SO do this. This will be fun." Historically, I do not get nervous before piano recitals, competitions, festivals, etc., so what did I have to do except practice and be excited? My other constant thought was, "I wonder what kind of person I'll be at my senior recital." I thought about that a lot.

So for the next year, I worked diligently on putting together and polishing my repertoire. But before I knew it, my year was almost over. As June 5th got closer and closer, the pressure kept building and I was getting more and more worried and stressed about it. But my parents, teachers and friends all assured me that it would be fine. So I practiced for hours every day, even escaping to the conservatory to play uninterrupted.

Finally, I woke up on June 5th at 9 o'clock, after spending a marvelous night with my sister Beth and three of our closest friends. I got up, took a shower, had bean and cheese tacos for breakfast (compliments of Beth and Chey who left the house without us knowing, and came back with armfulls of Taco Cabana), did my hair and makeup, practiced my pieces for the last time as a high school student, we loaded up the cars and were off to Castle Hills. When we got there, I tried to helpful as my wonderful family and aforementioned friends set everything up, but each time I ended up walking around aimlessly with shaking hands and pounding heart and butterflies in my stomach.

4 o'clock got closer and closer. I got dressed and was told to go hibernate backstage as guests started to arrive. So I had Beth (who was out greeting people) put her phone on speaker so I could hear everything going on, while I was locked away, with nothing to do but marinate in my own nerves. I had a couple visitors--sister CJ and friend Samuel came to check up on me and wish me luck one last time. Then I heard Pawpop voice the opening prayer, I heard Mrs. Woodard introduce me, I felt myself walk down the ramp, explain my first song choice, sit down at the piano bench and think to myself, "Well, I guess this is who I'm going to be at my senior recital." I sent one last prayer heavenward for peace and strength, and I played. After each piece, I left the stage and came back to more applause. I don't really remember what I was doing in my 1/2 minute backstage between pieces. I remember that it felt like a dream. A surreal, intense dream in which I was doing what I know best, and all of the people I love and who love me were watching.

Before I knew it, I thundered the last G of Chopin's Ballade in G Minor, lifted my fingers from their ivory friends and breathed an enormous sigh of relief and gratitude. I took my last bow, came to meet Mrs. Woodard and knew that my legs were shaking and my face was flushed. Dad read from Colossians, handed me my diploma with Mom, prayed, I handed my two amazing piano teachers flowers, then went backstage to change for the third time. Sisters CJ and Aubrey were waiting to help me and make sure I was still breathing (I think I was).

Once I had changed clothes, I went out to my reception, where I spent the next 2 hours being hugged and complimented by close to 200 people who I am grateful to call my family and friends. I was shaking and ridiculously thirsty. Once it was all over and the last guests had left, I collapsed into a chair beside my mother and felt the feeling return to my body.

When it was all said and done and cleaned up, some of my siblings and our good friends went to have dinner and see Letters to Juliet (which was terrible, mind you). Then I came home, talked with my parents about the night, and after lying in bed with my mind racing for about an hour, I fell asleep, waking up in exactly the same position the next morning (being an extremely light sleeper, this NEVER happens to me).

Being the human that I am, my recital was rife with mistakes--tripped cadenzas, jazz chords, a [graceful] transition from triplets to sixteenth notes, a clumsy page-turn, and 8 measures that I up and skipped, but the fact that I did it at all is kind of awesome, isn't it? I didn't have to play a senior recital. I didn't have to memorize 90 minutes worth of music. But I did! And I'm so grateful for that. God gave me a talent, and I got to share it with so many people. I'm ecstatic.

I'm also ecstatic that it's over and I feel so optimistic about where my life will take me, post-high school. It's gonna be great. Want to come?