Magnificent
There are no words adequate to describe the feelings that swelled up in my heart last night. (written last Friday) It was the most wonderful, magnificent evening. There are no words but I will sure try. Because I don't want to forget how I felt last night. Not ever. And I know that although with each passing year my memory of it will continue to stay sweet, it will fade, just some. The feelings will fill with new ones; new memories to try to hold on to. But this on, I want to have it forever. So I will try.
Last night I sat at the Bushnell in Hartford, Connecticut. Our Superintendent of Schools spoke brilliantly of how when he has to speak about the budget some people say that "kids don't need this or that" , and that "we should get back to the basics of education".
Our powerful Superintendent said no. The children of our town need special. That we should demand special. That "sitting here in such a magnificent theater in our capital city is not the basics. It is beyond special." The mural painted on the ceiling we were under is the largest mural in the United States. That is special. He went on to name all of the world famous people that have performed right there on that stage. All I heard was Judy Garland. On and one he listed, and then he said, "and now your child". Goosebumps.
Our town values arts and are known nationally for music education. It felt very special to hear those words. Magnificent really. Because I know that children who have more than "basics" in education can see themselves as more. They rise to more. They meet more. Not just in music of course but in all academic areas. And in life.
Oh it was a powerful start to a magnificent evening.
I want to remember how they honored a retire High School choral teacher and how out of hundreds of children they choose my Abigail to present flowers to her. I almost missed it but someone turned around and said, "that's Abigail presenting the flowers!" Such a sweet, sweet moment.
And then the orchestra, the magnificent orchestra played. They represent the best of the 11 elementary schools in our town. They auditioned and rehearsed weekly since January. They were magnificent. The sound filled the enormous famous theater. And I couldn't believe that my little daughter was up there. Magnificent.
I want to remember forever how an orchestra made up of fifth graders played "Sleeping Beauty Waltz" as if they were the Phil Harmonic Orchestra. Magnificent.
And then the choir and then the band. Each amazing. And magnificent.
The finale was all of the children: choir, orchestra and band performing The Star Spangled Banner. Beyond magnificent.
My face hurt from smiling so much that night.
I'm so grateful for this blank page that holds my thoughts and my photos so I can try to remember forever what magnificent felt like and sound like.
We got there early, really early so I could take photos before the doors opened.
Her features, still looking so little to me here.
Moments before she entered the stage door.
I have a photo of Anna about to walk in this very door four years ago.
A middle school in town performed in the Bushnell lobby. They were wonderful.
Thrilling
Scott was able to take a bunch of photos of her from where he was sitting. This was the finale.
And somehow she saw Anna and her face lit up!
Her Grandmas came (and the lighting was horrible)
And her grandpa was there too!
And then the most wonder thing happened. I was walking on cloud nine going to school the next day; still so lit up about the evening (although not enough sleep) and this happened:
A fifth grade teacher (in my school that doesn't know Abigail) said, "I saw your daughter last night. When she played she looked like an angel. I sat right in front of her.
And another teacher and another and another from my school was there with (somehow) amazing seats right in front of Abigail. They all saw her play the entire evening. And even though I brought my fancy camera with special lenses, the phone pictures they took are my favorite. Because they are of a magnificent little girl.
Thank you for letting go on and on telling this story. One I didn't want to end. And one I known I never want to forget!
