~The first time you pick up an instrument, you can feel the giddiness, feel the excitement, feel something click right inside of you that makes you think, "Yeah. I want to do this." ~
It was definitely dark –probably around nine or ten. My miniature eight year old face was plastered to the frozen car window. It wasn’t like I was completely mesmerized by the shining Christmas lights, colorful motorized decorations, or even the wonderful musical snowmen—that’s was only half the story.
The other half was the fact that my face was actually stuck to the window. Nonetheless, I couldn’t miss out on the experience.
My curious light, forest green eyes bulged out of my head, franticly absorbing every bit of imagery. As the car papa drove sluggishly moved up the driveway, my heartbeat increased ten-fold with every agonizing second. The feeling was long forgotten, but I knew it still felt as amazing as it did before.
I was happy.
Unfortunately, those beautiful seconds melted away as my parents’ incessant bickering racked my mind with nonsensical noise. To me, every venom-filled comeback, every snappy comment, and every sigh of sick exhaustion was like snow. Not the good kind, of course; the snow on T.V., when the screen breaks up and runs off in to millions of tiny little dots that let go of all the pretty colors.