Gee, Kathy, it’s Tuesday…don’t you post on Mondays?
Well, yes. Normally. But this weekend was kinda cool because my parents came to visit from Illinois. Why the visit? To see me, of course.
Okay…not really, but seeing their eldest daughter is a perk.
Mom and Dad came to see The Spirit of Woodlan perform at Homestead.
Two years ago, during Ella’s first year in the marching band, Mom and my sister drove from Illinois to see Spirit perform The Pyramids of Egypt at Lucas Oil Stadium. Mom decided that as very super-dee-duper cool as that was…it was crowded and a bit crazy.
Last year Mom and Dad (and my other sister) came for the first ISSMA competition at Homestead and enjoyed it so much, that Mom made a vow to visit for this competition every year.
So I wasn’t on the bus. No pics of the kids smiling faces behind tall-backed seats. No turning left. No hanging out at school all morning. No helping put on gauntlets and zipping up jackets. I made breakfast for my parents. I chatted with them. Then, when the time was right, we went to Homestead.
Mom and I watched all the bands, wrapped in ponchos and under an umbrella when the rain hit.
The screens went up this time. Exciting! And they looked fabulous.
A little cloudy…a bit of rain…The Spirit of Woodlan went out and did their best!
After so many times watching on her phone (because I am a good kid and record and send each performance), Mom was thrilled to see it in person. After being a part of this for so long, after watching practices, after seeing the show who knows how many times, I forget to listen, to watch, to enjoy. It’s something I know. It’s familiar. I know the notes. I have seen the drill and flags. I begin to analyze things, judge…
Was this better or worse than the last performance? Did they hit every crescendo? Were they in step? Were the flags in sync?
Sitting with Mom, who couldn’t have smiled more, I remembered to enjoy it. Marching band is temporary. Fleeting. Moments of a short high school existence. I don’t want to look back and think on how they placed, or how they did…just that they did. They performed. They had fun. They learned that they can do anything they want. They worked hard.
We all get wrapped up in the doing. Who has to be where, when. What has to be moved or made. What has to be perfected.
So, I wasn’t on the bus. Maybe the band members missed me (I might have received a phone call from a certain one of my faeries). But stepping back, not being submerged in roll call, loading and unloading, uniforms, and warm-up, made me remember that I do what I do because I love it. I love the band, the musicians. I love helping. I love being a part of this time in my daughter’s life.
Let’s spread our love. Make sure these talented high schoolers know we enjoy this. Let them feel the fire of us wanting to be involved, wanting them to have fun.
We’re deep in the season now. Things are getting serious. The flames might be fading a bit as we trudge on.
So let’s march. Let’s laugh. Let’s show everyone our Spirit.