Bach

My friend Emily took piano lessons and horse riding lessons growing up. I was fascinated by this; either possibility had never really crossed my mind for myself. Emily would compete in Bach Piano competitions as we got older. I went to one, piled in the suburban with the rest of her family. Emily wore a black dress, I think.

For her 20th birthday, I got us tickets to go hear a Bach concerto at the San Francisco Symphony Hall. We sat in the highest balcony, leaning over the curved marble edge to peer down at the musicians, the vocalists, the harpsicord.

All throughout the concerto, I got lost within the music, wandered in the music, scribbling on my arm with a black ink pen: I had forgotten to bring any paper at all, did not know I would need paper to record--record...--the thoughts that came to me, the lines of poetry.

Lately, I have wanted to find myself in a symphony hall once more. I don't think I would have ever listened to Bach before without Emily. I miss both of them.