I can't remember exactly when or where I got this little violin (and I do mean little, see the pen sitting next to it!) - but what I do remember is spending hours looking at it, playing with it, delicately admiring it. My guess is that I was around 10 years old when I got it.
It's stayed at my parents house but they recently sent it to me. The other night I spent at least half an hour enjoying it. The second I open up the case there is this smell that envelops me and takes me back to my childhood. When I see my hands caressing it, I see the hands of a young child exploring, admiring, dreaming.
I played the violin for 9 years growing up. In the beginning, I loved it - but as the years wore on I began to hate it. My interests were in other areas and practicing was the last thing I wanted to do. I therefore quickly dropped to the back of the class in skill level and remained there until I graduated high school. I haven't touched my violin since.
As I think about it, I believe the reason I stuck with it all those years was because I thought it made my parents proud. And because I hadn't stuck with anything I'd tried (piano, ballet, tap, soccer, girl scouts, etc...) I used to feel guilty about this, like I was a failure and couldn't complete what I had started. But what I realize now is that that is what kids do and I am SO thankful for all of those experiences! Everything I ever participated in, no matter how short, I learned something, I built memories and they all molded me into the person I am today --- a woman with a diverse background of experience, a hunger for knowledge, and an interest in a wide variety of things in life.
I am multifaceted, complex, and I like it that way.
