I stuffed my hands in my pockets, for now they were very cold. The field
still lay in front of me. . . empty. . . without a marching band on it.
Without the pit crew doing weird things and likewise with the guard.
Without Mrs. Loren calling to us. Those three months had ended, and what a
three months they were. Now I could stand in the bleachers and look at that
field and feel like that was ~my~ field, and. . .
"Christine, what the heck are you doing?" Alora's voice reached me from the entrance to the field. She was staring at me with a look of confusion; trying to make sense of what I was doing standing in the bleachers and staring at the field. "The season's over." "Yeah, I know." I said, coming back to my senses and realizing how idiotic I must look. "I was just. . . thinking," I told her, trotting down from the bleachers. "About what?" Alora walked into the field and came next to me as I was leaving. "The season." I replied with another glance. "Ah. I see." Alora said.
It seemed like a good end. We won, and all things aside I think we did pretty good this season. But it was no denying it the fact that it was now over.
Alora grabbed my arm and began tugging me in the direction of the field exit. She wanted me to come to her house today, and I couldn't if I was staring at the field. "So, are you going to join next year?" she asked. I turned to look at her. "What?" I replied, still coming out of my reflective daze. "Are you going to join next year." Alora repeated. A cold gust of wind caught me and made me shiver; it was really cold. Colder than it was, I hear, at championships.
"Ummm. . ."I said, not sure of what to say to her question. ~Was~ I going to join next year? I didn't know. This year was frustrating because I didn't understand much of the work, and because I was hardly there at all. I shared the triumph but the triumph, as Nelly said, wasn't as true as it could be. "Um? Is that all? Just 'um'?" Alora looked at me expectantly. She wanted me to answer "yes." "Maybe." I said.
"Maybe! Maybe, she says!" Alora threw her hands up in aggravation. "Only maybe?" She gave me that querulous look again. "Yes, Alora, only maybe."
Then I paused, looking at the field again. I could remember that day when Mrs. Loren said she was proud of me for accepting my role, accepting my place in the band and not giving up. And that was a feeling, I knew, that I couldn't get anywhere else. No sport in the world could ever match up to the emotion of marching band and colorguard.
That was truly our field. The marching band's field. A field of beginnings and endings. And I pondered. . .
"Christiiiine. . ." "Yes?" "Well?"
And I thought again. It was still maybe, because if anything could change your thoughts it was band camp, but then still. . . this was marching band and. . .
"Okay." I said. Alora turned to me. "Is it still a maybe?" She asked.
I looked ahead of me, at the bare trees and gray winter sky. Was I really going to say no? Somehow I doubted it.
"Maybe," I said to Alora. "Maybe. . . for now."
((WOOT IT'S FINISHED! Here you go, Julia, I finished it today because I was determined to!! Stay tuned, chaps, for the next story in "The Music the Moment You Want It" series, the next season after this, the second year. . . I can't wait to write it! Keep watch for "This Is So Not My Mambo" and. . . yeah! Smashing!))
"Christine, what the heck are you doing?" Alora's voice reached me from the entrance to the field. She was staring at me with a look of confusion; trying to make sense of what I was doing standing in the bleachers and staring at the field. "The season's over." "Yeah, I know." I said, coming back to my senses and realizing how idiotic I must look. "I was just. . . thinking," I told her, trotting down from the bleachers. "About what?" Alora walked into the field and came next to me as I was leaving. "The season." I replied with another glance. "Ah. I see." Alora said.
It seemed like a good end. We won, and all things aside I think we did pretty good this season. But it was no denying it the fact that it was now over.
Alora grabbed my arm and began tugging me in the direction of the field exit. She wanted me to come to her house today, and I couldn't if I was staring at the field. "So, are you going to join next year?" she asked. I turned to look at her. "What?" I replied, still coming out of my reflective daze. "Are you going to join next year." Alora repeated. A cold gust of wind caught me and made me shiver; it was really cold. Colder than it was, I hear, at championships.
"Ummm. . ."I said, not sure of what to say to her question. ~Was~ I going to join next year? I didn't know. This year was frustrating because I didn't understand much of the work, and because I was hardly there at all. I shared the triumph but the triumph, as Nelly said, wasn't as true as it could be. "Um? Is that all? Just 'um'?" Alora looked at me expectantly. She wanted me to answer "yes." "Maybe." I said.
"Maybe! Maybe, she says!" Alora threw her hands up in aggravation. "Only maybe?" She gave me that querulous look again. "Yes, Alora, only maybe."
Then I paused, looking at the field again. I could remember that day when Mrs. Loren said she was proud of me for accepting my role, accepting my place in the band and not giving up. And that was a feeling, I knew, that I couldn't get anywhere else. No sport in the world could ever match up to the emotion of marching band and colorguard.
That was truly our field. The marching band's field. A field of beginnings and endings. And I pondered. . .
"Christiiiine. . ." "Yes?" "Well?"
And I thought again. It was still maybe, because if anything could change your thoughts it was band camp, but then still. . . this was marching band and. . .
"Okay." I said. Alora turned to me. "Is it still a maybe?" She asked.
I looked ahead of me, at the bare trees and gray winter sky. Was I really going to say no? Somehow I doubted it.
"Maybe," I said to Alora. "Maybe. . . for now."
((WOOT IT'S FINISHED! Here you go, Julia, I finished it today because I was determined to!! Stay tuned, chaps, for the next story in "The Music the Moment You Want It" series, the next season after this, the second year. . . I can't wait to write it! Keep watch for "This Is So Not My Mambo" and. . . yeah! Smashing!))