My Moment in Time {15}

     The brilliant lights threatened to blind me as I stepped onto the crowded stage. I tried to not think about the fiery train that billowed out behind me and threatened to trip me with each step. The moment my eyes found the comforting sleek, wooden bench I tuned out the deafening roar of the audience. As I took my seat the hall ushered in a profound silence. I took a deep breath to steady my racing heartbeat as I placed my fingers on the cool keys. The hundreds of eyes peering at me threatened to awaken the fear within me but I fought to maintain my focus. This moment was mine and mine alone.

     “Make sure you are on your best behavior tonight Jessica.” I nodded obediently as we stepped through the tall glass doorway.  As I beheld the splendor of the room surrounding me, the grandeur of the building took my breath away. The elaborate golden staircase, the dark green lush carpeting, and the magnificent sculpture that held the very appearance of a mounting flame of fire were all aspects that impressed upon me the magnificence of Abravanel Hall. My anticipation mounted as we wandered our way into the luxurious performance hall. The golden tiers and enchanting chandeliers mesmerized me as I sat awaiting the conductor’s entrance onto the stage. A hush grew over the audience and the orchestra members sat up attentively as Maestro Joseph Silverstein took his position on the podium. When the concert came to a close, pride swelled within my heart as my eldest sister Hilary took her place amongst the talented musicians. From the moment Hilary’s fingertips graced the ivory keys to the flourish of her final chord my soul was inspired as a yearning to be where she was developed within me. Even at the tender age of five I knew that I would do whatever it took to be where she was.

     Years later I sat completely immobilized as I listened to the names being listed. I knew my audition had gone well but was it strong enough to set me apart? As I heard the last name listed I numbly hung up the phone. I looked into the questioning eyes of those awaiting my deliverance of the results. I quickly cast my head down as I mumbled, “I wasn’t chosen.” The faces around me darkened as the news settled. “There’s always next year,” said my mother comfortingly. I bitterly retorted, “You’ve been saying that since I was eight. How many more times do I have to receive Honorable Mention before I realize that it’s not going to happen!” I tried to fight the tears that threatened to overwhelm me but my composure faltered, as the world around me became a blur. I felt a warm hand touch my back as I heard my mother whisper, “Think about it Jessica, I really think that it could be your year.” The internal conflict grew as I determined whether the risk was worth the reward. I had sacrificed everything and basically lived on the piano for the past nine years of my life but my efforts seemed doomed to reap no compensation. I felt my resolve begin to crumble as my determined dream threatened to spark an ember of hope within me. What if it really was my year?

     Over the next year my days were filled with complicated rhythms, dancing melodies, and passionate themes as I strove to perfect Sergei Rachmaninoff’s First Piano Concerto. My dreaded audition drew nearer as I thought of the advice my teacher had given me when I informed him that this would be my final year competing in Salute to Youth. “Pick a different piece Jessica. This is too challenging and it is never selected for that very reason!” Little did he know that those words would only inspire me to strive harder to master my own personal Everest.

     My stress and anxiety peaked on the day of my audition. I knew that all of my years of hard work weighed on this single performance alone.  As I sat down to perform I took a deep breath and let the nerves run through my fingertips as I struck the first chord of my piece. The audition flew by in a whirlwind and I left the stage with ease, knowing that I had performed to the best of my ability.

     The hours of the day sluggishly passed as I awaited the dreaded phone call with the results of the chosen finalists. Regardless of the positive nature of my performance I knew that my chances were slim considering the other sixty talented musicians I was competing against. I had to stand out from not only the other pianists but also amongst all of the instrumentalists and vocalists. The pain overwhelmed me as I picked up the phone to listen to the message that would determine my fate. I waited in agony as the Education Chairmen listed off the names of the featured soloists and I froze in shock as I heard her say, “And our final soloist is… Jessica Coombs.” The disbelief that washed over me was overwhelming. Was it true? Could it really be? Was my dream that I had developed as a young girl really going to come true?

     Reality converged with my dreams as the lights of Abravanel Hall poured down upon my fingertips.  I shattered the silence around me with a series of crashing chords. The orchestra propelled me forward in a frantic race as we brought to life the 3^rd movement of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s First Piano Concerto. Our race came to a dramatic finish with the boom of our final echoing chords.

     The beauty of my moment shined above the years of defeat. Tears of joy streamed down my face as Maestro Vladimir Kulenovic said to me, “Jessica tonight I saw no student, I saw a true performer. You have a bright future ahead of you and I look forward to seeing your name.” I fervently shook the conductor’s hand as a reverence of gratitude grew within me. I could not contain the sunny grin that spread from cheek to cheek as I spotted my mother walking towards me through the sea of faces. In the trace of her beaming smile I could hear her tender words, “It’s your time,” but this time I actually believed her.