I stepped onto the stage and looked at the audience. Since the amount of people and their boggling eyes disturbed me, I looked down and did a quick bow. I quickly sat down at the piano, an eight foot Steinway & Sons grand with ebony lain keys. I had been practicing for over 5 months for the recital through sweat and tears, and today was the show, the final exam to see how much I had practice.

This had all started when my teacher told me I was going to participate in the winter recital 2009. I didn’t think that this was much of a burden, for at the time I had no thought of the stress that would build up over time. I did not practice much, and the weight of the performance started hanging on me in the last 3 months. Gradually, as the date dawned like a new day, I became more frustrated and tired, for my laziness had made me stuck in practice’s huge pit, a pit that could never be able to climb.


As the memory of my inertia filled up, doubt filled me, though the audience mistook it for calmness. I hyperventilated for little gulps of air, stared at the beautiful ivory keys, and started to play. Just then, out of the blue, a baby started crying it's heart out, disturbing me and the whole audience. I hesitated, out of focus with my fingers rigid on the keyboard, but regained my tempo and kept on playing a moment later. This was only my second recital, and my concentration was blown away like a leaf in the wind. I kept barging on with my piece, trying to hopefully find the lost leaf, and by the end of that piece, I inwardly smiled with glee, looking at my finding like Gollum and his ring. I started the next piece with full concentration, finished, then moved on to my final one. By then I was drenched with sweat, with a vivid crimson face. My fingers started slipping from the keyboard, and once I finished I was rejoicing about the end of my *almost* fluent recital. I got up and took a deep bow, then flew down the stage into my seat. But in those precious moments, I had caught a glimpse of my teachers’ beaming face and then knew that my performance was exceptional, and was all smiles afterwards.


Four years afterwards, I was still thinking about this event as I walked to the location of my to be recital. Straightening my jacket, a MVIO black solid, I breathed in the warm air and entered the hall. The anticipation was great, but once I was called I strode to the stage, bowed with a serene smile, and started to play.