I used to play the violin

I used to play the violin. I took lessons from the age of nine and played all the way up to a community college orchestra.

I don’t play the violin anymore. I’m not really sure why, except that I do a lot of other things now. Most parents can relate.

One day, I pulled an oddly shaped box out of the back of the closet. My 3-year-old jumped up and down with anticipation. She held a ukulele in her hand and couldn’t wait to see my treasure.

I lifted a beautiful brown instrument from its box. My violin. Made 1911 in Germany. I pulled off some of the strands from the bow. The poor instrument was missing a string, suffering from years of neglect.

“This is Mommy’s violin,” I explained to my daughter.

“Oh,” my 3-year-old said. “Can I play it?”

“No, honey. It’s very expensive.” I picked up the instrument and it fit snugly on my shoulder.

I ran the bow across a string. A noise floated up and out and around the room, surprisingly deep and strong. I remembered to add vibrato to the note and then it sang. I had created a beautiful sound. I moved my fingers freely across the strings to make different tones.

I indulged in playing, just for a moment.

“Mommy,” I suddenly heard, “let’s not do this anymore. Put it away.”

My daughter had noticed that the instrument was coaxing me away from playing with her. She couldn’t let this happen. I am Mommy now. Not a violin player. The violin requires practice and devotion.

But it’s one of the things that helps define me. Maybe my daughter would benefit from seeing me being “into” something. Plus, what better lesson to impart to my children than the absolute beauty of music? Why have I believed this to be too selfish a venture all these years?

I stood my ground.

“Honey, look how happy it makes Mommy to play this violin,” I said. “I’m so excited to get it out again. Why don’t you play your ukulele and we’ll make music together?”

We did. For a moment, we just played. She plucked. I strung. We had a makeshift orchestra, albeit a mismatched one.

For a moment, I played the violin again.

The moment inevitably ended. I didn’t mind. I carefully placed my violin back in its case and put the case in the front of the closet so I could easily reach it. It’s days of being shoved in a dusty corner are over.