We’re in the tunnel. Sweat glides down my back as I start to feel dizzy. Everyone’s crowded so close; the voices of band members bounce off the walls, all of us waiting. The snare starts. The tunnel roars with excitement as we run into the stadium, our eyes are scanning for our spots, kids shouting, “Left. Left. Left.” The show has begun. 

I hear the student section cheer as we march. Each step makes a difference. Each step, I avoid mistakes at all costs. Once we reach the National Anthem, I am worn out and only halfway through. The uniform glued to my skin with sweat, my breath heavy, my arms jelly—and it’s time for us to hold our instruments higher than ever. We do it. Every kid on the field fights the urge to break form. Some horns hang a little lower than they should be, and some members are not in the exact right spot. But we are doing it, we are owning the moment. The final leg of pregame marches in high step across the field into a pitchfork, just before the entire football team races through us. Our moment hits. We have finished the show; no matter that we made a wrong move here or were off beat for a song there, we did it. My school pride overwhelms the intense discomforts.  All I focus on is the entire stadium coming to life at the start of the game.

         College is a wild ride. Walking into first semester, I faced constant shock. Never did I expect random fire drills in the middle of the night or kids shouting through the halls at all hours. Every day new challenges arose. Taking each step, I hoped to stay in time; I hoped to keep formation as I faced a new kind of pressure: living on my own 1700 miles away from my family. I felt I was marching formations I had never been given. This transition is hard for many people my age. Plenty of people face homesickness; even adults away on business trips or on vacation endure it. There is nothing like sleeping in your own bed. Learning new music isn’t easy: going to class once a week, having so much free time, and staying healthy—all my responsibility. My notes came out a little off-key here and there, and my horn height hung shorter than it should’ve sometimes. Nonetheless, with every new song comes a learning curve; I was owning my moment.

         One of my goals as I came to college was finding a boyfriend. The process felt like playing an instrument for the first time. Dating was a foreign concept, so wrong notes were bound to be played. However, I went on dates, and wound-up learning what to look for. Frat parties were an unlikely place to meet good guys, yet I gave them a go. After all, college is the time to try new things. Going to a party where all the guys are only looking for one thing was a bit much; to put it simply, of the four guys interested in me, not one was sober. Each one flirted by getting me a drink and introducing me around the room. Discomfort filled me, so I left. 

Drinking on weekends became a red flag. I needed someone I could count on, someone to lean on like my bandmates. Trust is the heartbeat of any relationship. Frat parties weren’t the right formation, so I tried dating through some friends. We met up in their dorm room and watched a scary movie that I fell asleep to. Another wrong note. I hate horror movies, and I barely got to talk to my date. Another wrong note. Out of the blue, I came across a sweet guy in my math class, and we started hanging out. Our dates were filled with long walks and lots of laughs.

Did I make mistakes? Yes, but with each wrong note came a few right ones.

Living healthy became another challenge; as a band member and a college student, practicing healthy habits is extremely important. There is no time to be sick with so many hours of studying and band practice. I needed to eat healthy, get enough sleep, and keep up with my studies. Again, I faced wrong notes and missteps. Eating junk food and staying up too late occurred daily. Surviving heat exhaustion in my room became a norm. The struggles were real. Getting sick became my biggest test. Walking to CVS was my best bet on getting healthcare. My body wanted to give up. Turning in my uniform crossed my mind. Yet again, I was fighting to keep my horn up and stand straight. I changed my diet, ate vegetables every day, worked out more, and got to bed earlier. Again, I marched on. Each step in the right direction had me one step closer to owning my moment.

         First semester was full of mistakes. “Practice makes perfect” comes to mind; I resent the phrase. Some may say, my marching got better as I kept going; it’s true, but it never was and never will be perfect. For so long, my expectations of college were “perfect.” I thought I was going to live among mature adults, and find roommates who would become lifelong friends. Reality was tough. Life is not “perfect.” We make so many wrong moves and we may be on the wrong yard line or behind the wrong people. I want to live my life by “owning it” regardless of whether it is “perfect.” Every formation, every step, every horn move is important to the bigger picture, even if it’s slightly off. We can reach our moment without perfection. In every band show I performed, I made mistakes even after hours of practice. No matter the mistakes, at the end of the performance you still feel like you can take on the world because you gave it your all. A better phrase to live by is “Don’t leave anything on the table.” Try your best, play your music, the tune will come. 

         My performance came. After months of hard work. I aced my finals, made it on the dean’s list, finished out my marching season, made great friends, ate healthy, and got to go home. Earning the moment filled me with pride. I was proud to come home to my family and show off the person I had become. I owned my life, and no matter how many mistakes I make, I will continue searching for the right notes.