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You sometimes wonder where the time goes. But only sometimes because after thinking about it, you soon realize that it gets eaten. Consumed entirely by marching band, from the start of May to the start of November.
It's the last practice of the season, and you try to remember how everything started back in May when you first got the music for the show. It sounded awful, yet you hope that you never got rid of the videos you recorded from that one particular woodwind rehearsal.
You are now being told to get into a fundies block starting by the curb, and all you really want to do is go back inside and pretend that you aren't in band, because running to a cadence is not on your list of things that are fun. You still fall into place as the first person in the second row on the left, in a line with all of the other section leaders.
"Left! Left! Lefty righty left!"
You repeat the line as everyone's feet hit the pavement in time, the sound of rubber sole on asphalt filling your ears in between each phrase of the cadence.
"Left! Left! Keep it in step!"
You still continue to repeat each line, but it soon becomes completely arbitrary for you as the entire block makes it way around the first turn. There's a Sara Ramirez song stuck in your head, and that seems to be keeping hold of your attention much better than running and chanting the cadence.
You are so strong, my darling…
"When my grandma turned ninety-nine!"
The colorguard makes their way outside, dropping their flags on the ground. You briefly look at them as the block rounds another corner, that same song still playing in your head.
So mesmerized, my darling…
"Left! Left! Keep it in step!"
One girl picks up a flag used in the opener of the show and begins spinning, tossing it up in the air. The condensed block that you are in comes to a slow halt right next to where the guard is waiting to begin rehearsal, and the girl is still spinning her flag.
"You have exactly two minutes to be out on field, one set before the twenty-seven count hold!"
Almost everyone who had been running goes inside to get a drink of water, but you decide to stay outside knowing that there wouldn't be enough time for you to get any water with everyone in line at the fountains.
With a sigh, you go over to find your saxophone on the ground, humming the song that has no will to leave your head.
We can't cheat fate, my darling…
You can't help but look at the girl doing guard work, especially since she is now in the middle of the parking lot. Her flag flies up into the air more than once, and then falls safely into her hands without fault.
"Alright everyone, let's go!"
You highly doubt that the staff truly gave you a two-minute break, which brings you back to your previous thoughts on where the time has gone.
"I don't want to do this," you say to one of your friends in the clarinet section.
"Yeah, but, it's the last practice," she shrugs her shoulders and stops walking, clearly having made her way to her own spot. Your spot in this set is still on the other side of the field, so you go off on a slight jog to get there before anyone can yell at you.
The girl who had been spinning her flag earlier is right in front of you during these sets, and you nearly have to force yourself not to look at her. It's a habit of yours that you have been trying to break, but have been failing to do so. She doesn't have any sets during this part of the show, which gives you the perfect opportunity to make disgruntled faces whenever the staff is speaking from up on the tower that always seem to make her laugh.
Sometimes faith does prevail, my darling…
"Mayn libling" is the Yiddish translation for the words "my darling," which seem to be the only two words flowing through your head as rehearsal continues. You stay within the same sets for the next thirty minutes, and even the rest of your section notices how distracted you have become.
Your eyes are still set on the girl in colorguard, and your mind is running the words "mayn libling" on a constant loop, making it very difficult to focus on the task at hand.
But time seems to just disappear when in marching band, and you find yourself in the same sets once more during the final run-through at the end of practice. You still glance briefly at the girl, the will to break the habit gone and time leaving with it.
Oh how short it all was, my darling…
It's the last practice of the season, and you try to remember how everything started back in May when you first got the music for the show. It sounded awful, yet you hope that you never got rid of the videos you recorded from that one particular woodwind rehearsal.
You are now being told to get into a fundies block starting by the curb, and all you really want to do is go back inside and pretend that you aren't in band, because running to a cadence is not on your list of things that are fun. You still fall into place as the first person in the second row on the left, in a line with all of the other section leaders.
"Left! Left! Lefty righty left!"
You repeat the line as everyone's feet hit the pavement in time, the sound of rubber sole on asphalt filling your ears in between each phrase of the cadence.
"Left! Left! Keep it in step!"
You still continue to repeat each line, but it soon becomes completely arbitrary for you as the entire block makes it way around the first turn. There's a Sara Ramirez song stuck in your head, and that seems to be keeping hold of your attention much better than running and chanting the cadence.
You are so strong, my darling…
"When my grandma turned ninety-nine!"
The colorguard makes their way outside, dropping their flags on the ground. You briefly look at them as the block rounds another corner, that same song still playing in your head.
So mesmerized, my darling…
"Left! Left! Keep it in step!"
One girl picks up a flag used in the opener of the show and begins spinning, tossing it up in the air. The condensed block that you are in comes to a slow halt right next to where the guard is waiting to begin rehearsal, and the girl is still spinning her flag.
"You have exactly two minutes to be out on field, one set before the twenty-seven count hold!"
Almost everyone who had been running goes inside to get a drink of water, but you decide to stay outside knowing that there wouldn't be enough time for you to get any water with everyone in line at the fountains.
With a sigh, you go over to find your saxophone on the ground, humming the song that has no will to leave your head.
We can't cheat fate, my darling…
You can't help but look at the girl doing guard work, especially since she is now in the middle of the parking lot. Her flag flies up into the air more than once, and then falls safely into her hands without fault.
"Alright everyone, let's go!"
You highly doubt that the staff truly gave you a two-minute break, which brings you back to your previous thoughts on where the time has gone.
"I don't want to do this," you say to one of your friends in the clarinet section.
"Yeah, but, it's the last practice," she shrugs her shoulders and stops walking, clearly having made her way to her own spot. Your spot in this set is still on the other side of the field, so you go off on a slight jog to get there before anyone can yell at you.
The girl who had been spinning her flag earlier is right in front of you during these sets, and you nearly have to force yourself not to look at her. It's a habit of yours that you have been trying to break, but have been failing to do so. She doesn't have any sets during this part of the show, which gives you the perfect opportunity to make disgruntled faces whenever the staff is speaking from up on the tower that always seem to make her laugh.
Sometimes faith does prevail, my darling…
"Mayn libling" is the Yiddish translation for the words "my darling," which seem to be the only two words flowing through your head as rehearsal continues. You stay within the same sets for the next thirty minutes, and even the rest of your section notices how distracted you have become.
Your eyes are still set on the girl in colorguard, and your mind is running the words "mayn libling" on a constant loop, making it very difficult to focus on the task at hand.
But time seems to just disappear when in marching band, and you find yourself in the same sets once more during the final run-through at the end of practice. You still glance briefly at the girl, the will to break the habit gone and time leaving with it.
Oh how short it all was, my darling…
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Submitted for the Young Authors Contest. Ended up winning, even though it was only done for National English Honer Society credit. The events in this piece of literature aren't actually true, however they all happened at some point in time during the season [just not during the last rehearsal].
Have a listen: [link]
That girl, spinning the flag...you know who you are.
Have a listen: [link]
That girl, spinning the flag...you know who you are.
© 2010 - 2024 zohh
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i love second person...i need to experiment with it...