Category: Growing up

A 2-minute clip

from Prairie’s Violin Recital.

Sid suggested that I make a highlight clip from Prairie’s half hour recital for those rare people who don’t have the time or inclination to listen to a 30 minute recital.

So, we highlighted Devil’s Dream, not because it is her best song. It is not.  Not because she plays it flawlessly.  She doesn’t.  But because it is fun, makes us happy and because we can see our shy girl is breaking out and shining her quirky, fun personality in her own quiet way, even when she is scared.  Play on, brave girl.

Prairie’s Violin Recital

My girl, my heart — Prairie has battled anxiety, which included but was not limited to, performance.

She determined to celebrate completion of her Suzuki Violin book 2 with a private recital.  She had definite ideas how she wanted this to unfold and planned every detail.  She chose the location — the historic Chapel of Rest in Happy Valley, North Carolina.  She chose her songs, designed and created multi-page programs, including biographies for herself and her brother.  She gave explicit instructions to her accompanist, brother Lincoln, and he good-naturedly bent to her every wish.  Finally, Prairie even made cookies for the reception afterward.

The acoustics in the Chapel of Rest are awesome though the microphone on my phone recording is less than perfect.  However, Prairie’s personality shines over all that.

 

Almost, not yet

My eldest son

16 years and 9 months old

you ask if I have my cell phone as I

rush to the door

“Of course.  I would not leave my children home alone with

no way to reach me”

My hand secretly searches my bag and finds my deVICE.

You smile smug.

“Or maybe, mom, you have a responsible son who charges your phone and puts it in your pocketbook”

You lean your cheek down, down into my kiss-giving range.

 

Yesterday, you inspected my truck before a trip,

testing the engine light — thoughtful.

I have raised you and trained you

Perhaps you are ready for release.

 

Then I remember opening a kitchen drawer

and finding a block of cheddar cheese

beside the potato masher and ice cream scoop

while you stand at the counter,

a rectangle of cheese on its way to your mouth.

 

And I remember last week,

your little sister met me at the door,

serious face, big eyes, head tipped to side

revealing a bruise under her jaw

marked by your big clumsy foot.

It was a fun wrestling match until

it was not fun anymore.

 

Maybe you are not quite ready after all.

I sigh

In Relief.