My Trombone

I remember sitting in flute ensemble one hot, sticky July afternoon and I felt this rush of realization flood over me. I had no place being in that class. I'm a trombone. Forever and always, a trombone.

I remember my frist trombone lesson so vividly. It's a memory that, by repeated visits, has been etched into my mind's eye. I was sitting in the high school band room, trying so hard not to interrupt pit sectionals. Michael walked in the back door, looked at me and my chocolate chip muffin of a dinner, and said, 
"Let's go."

"Go where?"
"You're having a trombone lesson."

This day couldn't possibly get better! I stepped out into the cold, wet September and was overcome with mirth.

We walked over to his truck and sat on the tailgate. 

"Show me what you can do," he told me.

I laughed.

"Just 'cause I want to doesn't mean I can!" I retorted.

"Do you know how to put it together?"
"Um...well...I mean...nah..."

Two weeks later I was done with the first book.

Reviews

[Larrycall]

i love it so well decribed i wrote one about my clarinet