Many years ago, when my younger sister was accepted into a children’s School of Music, I felt very happy for her: studying to play a musical instrument looked so exciting for me, but I was already too big to start and too busy with my homework in my regular school. We did not have much choice of an instrument because a piano was too big for our apartment and too expensive. My parents liked a violin since it was small, but a violin was already popular and the only instrument left was the cello.
Nevertheless, I did not mind a new duty assigned to me as a big sister: walking my sister to school and carrying her heavy cello. I was expected to wait by the door of her class for her lesson to end and bring her and her instrument back home.
Our parents were working, and we were expected to do all of our homework by the time they would return from work. The difficult life of an older sibling! Envious in the deepest part of my heart, I became a good inspiration for my little sister who very often would lose her patience or simply became tired, but I would abuse my right to supervise her and made her start practicing over and over again.
As a result, I learned all the names of the composers and their famous pieces she learned during those first four years, especially the pieces she practiced more often while preparing for school concerts.
Eventually, she graduated from this children’s school of music with very good grades, and all of her instructors recommended further studies which she refused, preferring chemistry to music. Later though, she admitted that doing this extra work -practicing music everyday – taught her to become a very organized and disciplined person.
All these classical musical works she used to play stayed in my memory: every time I hear a cello playing it reminds me of these walks to school of music, a heavy instrument in my hand, the long afternoons in my childhood home when I was the only listener of my sister’s music.