perils with writing and whatnot
If you haven’t read part 1 yet, click here.
When I first walked through the front door, I avoided my mom who was in the kitchen cleaning vegetables. I thought if I could make it down the short hall to my bedroom, I could put my reading assignment, the information about the band and the permission slip on my dresser, and then go give her the ceremonial kiss she expected every day. That way I could delay telling her about the band, flute, and the cost until after dinner.
My devious little plan worked. After the kiss, my mom asked about my day. I sidestepped the subject of the news about the band by telling her about my reading assignment. She didn’t suspect a thing.
After dinner and after the dishes were washed, my dad, mom, brother and I took our usual places in the living room to watch TV. During the first commercial, I lowered the boom. Actually, I said it in the softest of voice that I could, directing the conversation towards my mom who was sitting in the overstuffed chair next to my place on the sofa.
“Mom, can I be in the band at school? I want to play the flute.”
“Is there a band at school?”
“Yes, it’s just starting. The teacher came to our room to tell us.” I could tell that she wasn’t buying it. She kept on sewing the hem into the new dress she was making for me. I ran to my bedroom and got the paper folded neatly within the pages of my assigned book and came back to the living room. “The teacher said this would tell you about it.”
I ran back into my bedroom, got the permission slip, and put it on top of the paper my mom was reading. At that point, I just wanted this drama to end. As she looked over the material in front of her, she asked, ”Would you practice every day just like you do with the piano?”
“Yes Mom. I would do the piano lesson first after school, and then do the flute”
“And how about your homework?”
“I’d do that right after dinner. Sometimes I don’t have homework because I’ve done it at school. I just had the reading assignment today, and I’m done with that already.”
“I’ll call The Music Box (a local music store) to price their flutes and see if they have rentals.”
It was really going to happen. I was going to be in the band. I had a hard time sleeping that night. I wasn’t thinking about the band though. I was thinking about just playing the flute. Sleep did finally take over. I must have slept hard because it was my mom’s voice that woke me up, not my little pink alarm clock.
As I handed the permission slip to my homeroom teacher, I took a quick glance at it. I, now, knew the band teacher’s name, Mr. Avery. I hadn’t paid attention to this before because his appearance was so striking. He wasn’t as tall as my math teacher or my regular music teacher. His hair was that carrot red that no one seems to want. His eyes were the lightest of blue, set just behind brown eyelashes. When he spoke, he used his arms and hands frequently.
When he came into the classroom that next Tuesday, I handed him a note from my mom telling him that a student flute had been purchased for me. He smiled at me and said thank you. He told me along with the other students that band rehearsals would start the next Tuesday, right after school, in the auditorium.
As a ten-year-old, I just couldn’t believe my luck. I actually got exactly what I want. You must realize that this rarely happens.
There’s more to tell but I’ll leave that for other stories here in my blog.
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