The Concert

There was only a moment before it would all begin. The biggest performance of my life. An internal bomb of nerves was about to detonate from within and all I could think was to keep breathing. After my summer performing at Juliard, this should've been second nature to me. But playing a sold out show in Central Park was terrifyingly daunting. I swallowed a calming remedy that left a bitter, oily after taste, tuned my guitar for the last time, and took the stage. I was met by a roaring crowd of twenty thousand and my nerves were overwhelmed with excitement. The carpet below my feet was my good luck charm, woven with paisley designs by my grandmother many years before. My only superstition was that I never performed without insence burning; the musky aroma filled the air and calmed me. I approached the stool and took my place. The crowd was silent. I looked out, and seeing the thousands of expectant faces I realized there was no good in letting my nerves get the best of me. This had to be an amazing concert. I began plucking strings and tapping my feet and became lost in the melody. In a blink two hours had gone by. The exuberant crowd beckoned me back for not one, but two encores. As I walked off the stage, I was filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment that I had never felt before. The most terrifying challenge of my life proved to be the most fullfiling one too.