a return to music , a gift from grandma

I had stored my violin in an obscure, dark, infrequently accessed, corner of my house. I had no need for it. It had been years since I had really connected with music.  It had become a thing of the past, something I did before I had kids, a husband, bills, a grown- up life.

That changed the day that I found out my Grandma Marilyn had cancer, this summer.  The doctors had said  nothing about the extent of the cancer's severity but I knew, just with a gut feeling, right then, that she was dying.  I didnt know how to handle myself.  I relied on grandma, she was essential. She had always been there for me. And dang it, I had already lost a grandma that year!! I had already prayed my heart out and didn't know who to hug, who to call, what to do.

So I picked my violin up and started playing.  At first I didnt know what to play, I had forgotten every song I knew.  I was out of tune and off beat but I was loving it.  It was a way to reconnect with myself, to sort my out my feelings, and channel my angst.

A few weeks later I played my violin at grandmas funeral, by her request. I got back home from Alaska and I rehaired my violin bow with wild red horse hair and bought a new box of rosin. Then right before Christmas I nervously auditioned, and miraculously was accepted into  a D.C area community orchestra.

I guess it only makes sense that it was my grandma who got me back playing again. I feel like my entire life my grandmas have been urging me towards music. I have distinct memories playing the piano with my grandmas at my side. I remember myself as a scratchy, squeaky, 11 year old violinist playing for my both of my grandmas and seeing them elated to be my audience. It is because of my grandma Hazel that I have the amazing violin I have now. I remember the day we went and got it and I'll never forget how happy she was for me to have it.  

In college I took a celtic fiddle class which required a final performance exam. I remember practicing studiously but still feeling uneasy, and anxious. Then I played for my grandma, who was visiting.  She gave me a standing ovation, both a 'good luck' and a 'good job' hug and made me feel like I belonged on Riverdance. She made me feel confident. When it came time to play in front of the judges, I nailed it. That day I gave the only flawless violin performance of my life. I also got my first and only A+ on any college final - it was the magic of grandma. 

The concert on Sunday was entitled "Voices of Spring"  The name seemed telling. For me the concert felt like the end of a long, hard freeze, a time void of music and artful expression.  It feels enlivening to enjoy music after my long hiatus.I'm happier now that I have music back in my life. I feel more balanced, more myself, than I have in years.  

My grandmas were champions of care packages stuffed with cookies, asian pears, ridiculous holiday paraphernalia, kids clothes, and candy.  They were great gift givers. Their best gifts though were not ones they put in a box. They were the influences that have formed, inspired, healed, and helped  me. So let me just say "Thank you, grandma, wherever you are, for your one last gift."

(I am in the back looking towards the audience)

The dangers of letting your kid wear all spider-man clothes- they want to climb on your car and shoot you with webs.

Chocolate fondue, naked.

 Liam made this ocean diorama and with his favorite sharks (lemon shark and hammerhead.)

I wish that every day would be springtime

On a walk this week Liam spotted a soft, fluffy dandelion head, bursting with seeds. He smiled, picked it up, blew the seeds up into the air and with big, excited, eyes started talking to himself.

 He ran back to me and I asked him " Hey, what were you saying over there?"
"Oh just making 2 wishes. The first wish was that everyday could be like today.The second wish was that every day could be springtime."

I wish that too.

I fell in love with my blue hydrangea first, before all other flowers. She is picky, she is moody, and if you don't treat her just right she gets all discolored and droopy and does her own thing. But when she's good, she's really good and she out-blooms the rest of the garden.

   I paid 10 times more for this one flower than any other plant and it was the first plant I ever owned. I spent hours over several days moving rocks in our  Michigan home to make a flower bed for her. When we relocated to D.C. I gingerly brought her with us. But last summer when we came back from our Alaskan vacation she had been scorched, neglected, and was dead, dead, dead. I almost cried.

    But miraculously she's back from plant heaven, redeemed by spring.

Spring family

 I'm never more thankful for the sunshine than in those first warm days of spring.   It is the best time of year.  In celebration of warmth, cherry blossoms, and each other, we spent the day at George Washington's estate.