It had been almost a full year of preparation. I had lessons every week, which started at thirty minutes, then forty-five minutes, and eventually became an hour. I remember coming back home with wrapped pinkies and sore wrists. As the time for the piano audition grew nearer, I realized the importance of this moment. At least, it was important for a 2nd grader. I had to memorize seven pieces, as well as play the chord inversions, cadences, and arpeggios correctly. It seemed like an impossible feat. Before, all I had to worry about was how I was going to explain to my teacher why I didn’t practice for the third week in a row, and how I was going to memorize this piece for the upcoming recital. I had never thought that it would become this intense. When the day came, I was a nervous wreck. My hands were sweaty and shaking. I’m sure I wiped them on my dress almost thirty times. I couldn’t remember any of my pieces, nor what order they were in. It was the first time that I would have rather stayed in school than leave early, because I was dreading the moment so much. When I got home, I changed …show more content…
My piano teacher had been consoling me, but it had no effect. She urged me to show confidence so that I would not let my nervousness affect my performance. Her kind and encouraging words went in one ear and came out the other. I shuffled into the room, staring at the floor. Even though I had been here multiple times already (it was the church where we had our spring recitals), the room seemed foreign and forbidding. I stole a quick glance at the judge. She was an elderly woman, with wispy gray hair pulled into a loose bun. She smiled at me, and when she did her eyes crinkled. Her friendliness did not ease my sense of foreboding. I quickly walked to the piano and abruptly sat down. I stared at the keys, but they became meaningless to me as I wiped my sweaty palms once again on the side of my dress, and tried to keep