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Those horrible, hot days at summer band.
Rehearsing drill until your legs burn.
Doing the show until
your are positively sick at the band
Director saying "let's do it just one more time."
Loading and unloading instruments,
Carrying flags and rifles on and off the field with the timing of military
offensive, day after day after day.
Ice
to relieve bruises on wrists,
Foreheads,
Ankles.
Swollen lips.
Doing push-ups.
Standing at attention for
five more minutes then you can bear.
Sunburn.
Wanting to sell your soul for five more minutes of sleep.
Flags
in the face, rifle in the ribs.
Wanting to give it all up an join the chess club.
Hearing the show music in your sleep.
Sectional.
Heartburn.
Heartbreak.
Drumming on everything inside.
Tossing anything you can pick up.
Thinking
marching band was a stupid way to get out of p.e.
Realizing color guard looks a lot easier than it is.
Wondering what
happened to your life.
Eating dinner in the car while changing clothes and doing homework.
Lost shoes and mouth pieces.
Long underwear under your uniform and icy wind in your face.
Learning the fine art of sleeping on the bus.
Tears
and teasing.
Learning you have over 200 new brothers and sisters who stick by you through
thick
And thin.
Knowing
you have 400 new parents who will cheer for you, no matter what.
Laughing with others and learning more about yourself
than your knew.
Thinking the show will never work.
And then,
Finally,
It all comes together and you have achieved
perfection,
Drumming your hands off and playing your brains out and tossing higher than
the sky.
A slice of time
on the stadium when everyone cheers and your mom cries and
pictures get taken and once,
Just once,
You have the
world in your hands.
And the band marches out of the stadium and down the parking lot,
Always together whether it's
success or not,
And you know by the feeling in your heart it doesn't get any better than
this.
And you know if
your band director ask you to turn around and "do it just
one more time, a little better,"
You would.
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