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  • Writer's pictureChoo Choo

Denouement


I'm back.

After a two-month hiatus from this silly writing outlet in my little corner of the Internet, a time during which I experienced an unpleasant and frantic amount of elation, rejection, self-doubt, panic, hope, frustration, resignation, exhaustion, television, and carbs, I am now pleased to report that I have emerged on the other side, relatively unscathed and with renewed spirit*.

April's busy schedule now safely in my rearview, I went home for a couple days this weekend to present lecture recitals for the Piano Teachers Round Table/St. Louis Area Music Teachers Association and at East Central College. The audience was engaged and receptive, and I learned that it is very difficult to perform Schubert B-flat twice in one day at two different venues and still maintain a high level of concentration and sanity. (Scratch that last part; it is very difficult to perform Schubert B-flat, period.)

After the concerts I took my parents out for an early Mother's Day dinner, then met some friends in the Central West End for Scotch around the patio firepit at the Scottish Arms, then went for a quick dip in the hot tub at Sam and Nick's. The next day I went shopping with my mother and stuffed my face with her homemade potstickers right up until it was time to head to the airport. A most successful trip.

There are still a couple concerts and about a month of work standing between me and Official Summertime, but I might as well be on vacation already. Once again, I have time to breathe, cook, read, write, clean, and live. As much as I have loved the musical accomplishments these last two months have offered, there is something irreplaceable about curling up in the armchair in my office on a cloudy Sunday afternoon, rocking an old T-shirt and bleach-stained sweats, a cat nestled in the crook of my arm as I type, the dryer humming in the distance, the kitchen clean, the messes of dinner still hours away.

Purring, still half-asleep, the cat starts to groom my arm with lazy sandpaper strokes, a physical affirmation of my current state of contentment and hers.

*Probably attributable to the consumption of spirits

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