The music dream

“You can’t major in band,” Dad screamed at me as I slammed my bedroom door. I stopped, pivoted, and opened the door again.
“It’s not Band, Dad!” I yelled. “It’s music. And I am first chair trumpet. I always have been.”

I slammed the door again as he yelled something about college and getting an education. I was not a math whiz. Science was not my deal. The only thing I was good at was music. It gripped me. It held me. I understood it and I wanted to teach it. That was what he could not understand.
I closed my eyes and imagined instructing a group of high school students just like the ones I was in band with. They looked up to me. They listened to my instruction. They knew I would not lead them astray.

In my mind, I had the band ready for its first public appearance. We had practiced the march. We knew all the steps. We were ready.
It was homecoming weekend. We took the field at halftime to the sounds of the entire town cheering. This is what I was meant for. I smiled and opened my eyes, hearing a small tap at my door.

“Maybe I was hasty,” Dad said. “Why don’t you tell me more about your dreams.”

All was not lost. I might just get to realize my dream yet. I pulled out the college brochure from under my pillow.

Word count 240