Growing up I played percussion
Drums, xylophone, tambourine, all of it
So many loud and soft instruments
That helped drown out the noise of life
--
Percussion gave me an excuse to stay after school
To practice late while others left
Just another attempt to not go home
To stay somewhere I felt I belonged
--
I'd practice for hours
Perfecting a melody or rhythm
Until my hands were left trembling
And I'd keep going until my mom showed up
--
Being a percussionist you tend to practice
Even without your instrument
You watch TV, but you also slap your hands
On your lap until you get the beat right
--
You walk around patting your chest
Arms folded up high like an awkward chicken
Letting people wonder what's wrong with you
Something only percussionists would understand
--
There were less awkward things of course
Like playing a percussion game called pong
It was similar to the classic game
But a bit more fun
--
You'd take a big bass drum
Someone would sit on one side
The opponent would sit opposite
And you'd each pull out a set of mallets
--
Just like the original game
Someone would strike a note
And the other would volley it back
An exchange of notes would ensue
--
These games were short-lived however
With each turn you'd usually speed it up
Quickly trying to outdo each other
We always sped up too fast
--
Percussion allowed me to live
To find space in between the notes
Moments of fresh air that calmed me
And taught me not to hold my breath
--
When I was younger and found myself
In dark moments that were too frequent
I'd lie awake in bed, a restless wreck
And I'd always end up patting my chest
--
Working through complicated rhythms
Was my sleep aid of choice
A percussionist's counting of sheep
That almost always worked
--
All the rhythms ended the same though
I'd play a game of pong with my heart
Lightly patting my chest and waiting
To feel a pulse I was afraid would stop
--
With each tap of my fingers
I made sure not to speed up
Forcing my hands to be slow and steady
So that my heart would do the same
--
Late into the night we'd play
Creating a cadence of unison
And on and on it would go
Until we fell asleep
--
I haven't done that for nearly a decade
But last night I did
I skipped straight to the game
And was thankful to hear something back
Inspiration: Never underestimate the power of music.
For many people, music isn't just a hobby or something they enjoy. It's a breath of air in a suffocating world. There's life in it. You just have to stop and listen.