I started playing the violin over 15 years ago while I lived in the UK.
I’ve never touched a violin before.
I fell in love with it.
I practiced two hours a day and got blisters, so my teacher told me to slow down.
I experienced pure joy while practicing a piece for my first and last competition.
I was advised to get a slightly smaller violin during an adult violin camp.
Many violin stores in the UK carry old European violins, whose sizes vary.
I drove all over the UK to find the exquisite one.
I loved playing in an amateur orchestra.
We sometimes played at a church and a nursing home.
I stopped it when I became a full-time graduate student.
A few years after I moved to the US, I restarted and stopped again.
My beautiful violin was sitting in the case, and my dream piece of sheet music was untouched.
It was time.
The same violin teacher agreed to teach me once more. I felt fortunate, knowing that she is selective.
She told me I would have become a professional violinist if we met when I was ten.
I accept the compliment without arguing because it’s more fun to believe so.
My dream piece is a concerto for two violins.
It’s an impossible mission, but my teacher said it’s not.
Now I see the possibility of playing the 1st movement with my teacher one day in our regular practice studio.
It will be a performance for myself.
Imagining the moment makes me feel emotional. I probably will cry.
I don’t know how long it takes, but I will make it happen.
Seeing possibility and feeling it is powerful.
