JUNE 22ND, 1983 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

     We enter the music store and thousands of shiny, brass and metal instruments shone back at me. I saw my reflection in everything I could look at. The different saxophones looked so beautiful and different than they did in shows.
And the trumpets weren't plastic! They shone brighter than the sun. I spot shiny metal rods in a glass room and start to make my way towards them, but I was cut off by my mother, who seemed a bit nervous of the music store.
"Don't go in there, flutes can be very expensive."
     A short man comes over to greet us. In his shirt, the name Mark was engraved in all capitals. "May I help you?"
"Yes, we're looking for an instrument."
"What kind?" he asked.
"We don't know yet. Is there a chance we could try some out?"
"Absolutely. Just wait in the first room on the right down that hallway over there."
     As we walk down the tiny corridor, I hear a piano and a guitar strumming. I guessed these were the lesson rooms, where I could hopefully join them.
     We sit in the room for a little while more. A music book catches my eye on the counter.
Selected Duets for Flute - Volume II it read. I flipped to the middle and furrow my eyebrows. Everything looked strange! How would I ever be able to understand this?
     Mark comes back holding three cases. He sets them down on the floor.
"Do you think you'll be more interested in a woodwind or brass instrument?"
I knew this term. I've heard it before.
"Woodwind," I answer. He pulls out a thin rectangular case and opens it on the counter.
Inside there were three pieces. He slid each part into another and held out to check something on the lip plate.
"Do you know what this is?" he hands me the silver instrument. I shake my head no.
"This is a flute. Usually it can be very difficult to learn, since you have to align your mouth properly to produce a sound, and it's not like other instruments. Quite different, in fact. But, you'll get the hang of it."
He holds the body up with his hand and asks me to blow across it. No pitch came out except for the dry sound of my air.
"Act like you're smiling, and blow."
A steady note came and truthfully speaking, I was almost scared. I made that sound. It wasn't my Grandmother Cora. It was me.

━━━━━

     I walked out of that music store carrying four things.
     In my right hand I held a music book, a tiny bag intertwined around my finger containing two reeds, and a slip saying when my first lesson would be.
     In my left hand, was an oboe.