Thursday, March 13, 2014

Serendipitous Serenade

Have you ever become encapsulated in a moment? A furtive instant in an unfamiliar place where you normally would not linger? The scenario is an early morning horn lesson in a sleepy suburban Twin Cities neighborhood. My daughter is the student; I am the driver. Always the driver who lingers on in the background. The lesson was with a master French Horn player who teaches out of her home.

We are welcomed into the home by the instructor. She seats me in the dining room and ushers my daughter away to her lesson. I plug in my laptop, anticipating an hour of solid work. Until the master of the house finds me working away in his dining room. He is dressed for the gym except that he is holding a cello in one hand. A brief greeting ensues, an offer of coffee. Thank you no. He disappears.

A moment later the music begins. The most beautiful cello concerto I have ever heard performed live while I listen from the dining room. Dvorak I believe. If he is merely rehearsing I hear no errors. No repeated runs, no working over notes. Just the most fluid, exquisite work of art. Captivated by the cello, my work faded away, the laptop disappeared, and I was completely enchanted for 30 minutes of stunning passion released through the cello.

As the last notes faded away reality replaced my musical trance. The maestro reappeared, glistening with sweat from his workout, nodded, and left with his cello. Solo applause seemed inappropriate. I departed the home with my daughter. However the beauty of that moment, of the mastery of the cello, and being lost in the concerto lingers with me.

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