Cello Dreams
As a girl, I dreamed of playing the cello. The big, beautiful instrument just wasn’t in my family’s price range. I played the clarinet the following year, and ultimately quit band in favor of going “all in” with choir. But every time I heard an orchestra play, I wondered…
In college, as Music Education Majors, we had to take a series of classes that taught us the basics of all the major instrument families. My roommate looked at my tear-filled eyes on the day I had to turn in the cello I’d been practicing on for the past four weeks. “Don’t,” she said. “Keep it. Your were born to play it.” She was right, and we both knew it, but the semester was over and I had to give it back, so I did.
Once I joked to a professional musician that I would “play the cello in my next life.” Her response? “Oh, but what if you don’t have one?” My breath caught in my throat. I don’t actually think I get another chance at this ride: I think this is it. With my flippant words I was banishing my cello dreams to the ether, not my future. Armed with this seemingly obvious realization I resolved to play the cello in this life.
Even with that thought in my heart, I kept putting it off telling myself that the expense was completely unnecessary and selfish. After all, I already play the piano, and I get to teach music for a living, so why add this extra thing? I had no plans to play it in front of anyone, so I told myself that playing it wouldn’t matter. However, every time I saw a cellist on YouTube, or heard one in a beautiful piece I would assert that I wished I could do that, too. My husband would tell me each and every time, “Do it.”
When confronted with the “it wouldn’t matter” line his response was was simple, and consistent: “It would matter to you.”
On Valentine’s Day weekend 2022 I found myself wandering over to the cello section while my son was in his saxophone lesson at our local music store. Looking at the price tag, I realized that this student instrument would cost just a few more dollars than my son’s saxophone to rent each month. It was do-able.
I casually dropped this information to my husband when we got home. I still had my purse in my hand and he said, simply “Go get one. And get a teacher. Happy Valentine’s Day, Love.” My heart fluttered. I felt a smile blossoming across my face. It felt frivolous, silly, amazing, and joyful all at once. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I drove straight back to the store and rented my dream. It turns out you actually might be able to buy happiness, by the way. It takes the forms of things that light up our hearts, and sometimes those come with a price tag.
I have loved every minute of it, because it’s just for me. That is enough. Music doesn’t have to be for an audience to be valuable.
Even when this new practice is hard, even when I sound like the absolute beginner that I am, it makes me happy because I can answer the question I’ve been asking myself since I was eleven:
“What if? What if I tried to play the cello?”
The answer is this: I will love it. It will make me mad. It will make me smile. It will make me frustrated. It will make me remember what it feels like to have to crawl when you’d rather run. It will make me wish I had started sooner. It will make me glad that I started at all. It will stretch me, push me, and pull me in just the right ways. I will be proud that I tried. It won’t matter if anyone else ever hears me.
What dream is calling to you?
