Music in the House

On this rainy, grey California afternoon, I'm listening to my son play his violin. He's been taking lessons for six months and loving it.

We are a week from his first recital and he seems very ready. In fact, tonight we have rehearsal with his accompanist in preparation for the big event. It boggles my mind that a seven year old requires a pianist for "Bessie the Cow" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" but it really does add a different dimension to the work.

I am staggered by how challenging the violin can be. I never understood how physical it is to play the violin. Indeed, his first month of lessons seemed primarily focused on just getting the violin to meet his body in an acceptable and comfortable way.

I am also in awe that my son has learned to do something of his own motivation and wholly apart from me. He speaks of open strings and various fingerings with a fluency that sends me dashing for his music books. He practices (mostly) of his own volition, working through lessons and memorizing pieces. I watch him play, from a respectful distance, as often as possible. The concentration that furrows his brow, the tiny foot tapping out rhythm, and those mutterings of "rest, rest" under his breath speak to his complete engagement.

Keep up the good work, kiddo. Bravo!