I know the notes,

They’re in my mind and heart,

But it doesn’t offer any comfort for what’s to come,

It doesn’t reassure me in the weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds

leading up to the moment,

I know in my head that I’ll do well,

And somewhere deep down,

I know I still enjoy doing it,

But the fear of ruining the performance is greater than the feeling of joy,

Because if I mess up,

Then I mess everyone else up,

The chorus teacher,

The page turner,

The chorus, 

And the guilt and shame of my hard work 

will take my love for accompanying away,

Friends and family are there for me,

Affirming that I will do good and that I always will be awesome,

But even so, 

I feel my head spinning and my steps staggering,

I hear my feet tapping in an uncontrollable rhythm,

I feel my heart pounding and my stomach somersaulting,

I wipe my sweaty palms into my black dress pants,

I adjust and readjust the short sprigs of growing hair 

from the sides of my face,

I make sure every little bit of me is as perfect as can be,

I practice the songs over and over on the beautiful baby grand piano

an hour before showtime,

Then I wait,

And wait, 

And wait,

Until it’s time for me to step on the stage behind closed curtains 

and take my seat on the rickety stool,

Squeezed tight against the enormous choir,

I listen to directions blindly as they are not for me,

I take deep breaths to slow the rhythms of my heart,

And hear the principal’s introduction before

the velvety red curtains whoosh away 

to reveal bright, burning lights that blind me 

from a sea of expectant faces,

Including familiar ones in the first row of the right section,

Once the introductory applause is silenced,

The chorus is ready to sing,

And I’m ready to play,

The sound of quiet counting and overemphasized hand gestures

start my part and I am on a roll,

I embrace the beginning as if it was a solo,

Then hear the voices of soprano, alto, and bass join in,

My fear is there but hidden,

Because I feel the music, 

I breathe the music,

I am the music,

Until the piece ends and the applause deafens all other noise,

And the pride in my efforts shows as I take a deep bow,

Then the exhilaration and excitement is over,

I played some more and turn pages for others,

But eventually it all comes to an end,

And I am flooded by parents finding their children,

And am congratulated by strangers,

And hugged by friends,

But I just want to leave,

I want to go home and sleep soundly

knowing that my hours of practice and frustration

were worth it.