Literature, cellos, and dreams.

A long time ago, I fell in love with the idea of playing a cello. I'm pretty sure it comes out of a book I read a long time ago called "Midnight Hour Encores" by Bruce Brooks. It's a rite of passage tale, involving a VW van, a confident, smart aleck teenager, and a cross country adventure. The main character (the teen) is a music prodigy who plays the cello. It doesn't have to make a lot of sense. I just think that I can pinpoint my romantic vision of the cello to the reading of the book.

The thing is, learning a new instrument is often considered a young person's thing. Old dog, new tricks. Etc. And it's a huge commitment of time, energy, and concentration.

Most importantly, playing the cello has been a dream for a long time. The funny thing about dreams - especially the ones you've had for awhile - is that it's hard to actually live with them. If you pursue them they can be amazingly inspiring. They can also be heartbreaking.

So, today I took a deep breath and sought out a dream. I came home with a cello. I'm nervously excited. I don't know how this will go. But it was finally time to actually try.