My Mom asked me once what instrument I would want to play. It was obvious that I was not into the whole piano thing. Getting me to sit down and practice was a constant battle. I told my Mom that if I could play anything, it would be the cello. The cello makes a sound that resonates in my body and soothes my heart, but our little town only had band. No orchestra. No stringed instruments. My big brother played the drums and he’s cool. So, I picked up some sticks and settled into percussion. One day, while Mom was working at the Oklahoma Well Log Library, she heard a geologist talking about an old cello in his attic. Mom bought that cello from him for $75. It needed new everything, pegs, strings, bridge. It had a crack down one side. We spent another $300 in repairs. Mom found me a teacher who got me into a special youth orchestra. There wasn’t money for a case and I carried my cello around wrapped up in an old sheet until Mom made me a vinyl cello case. Yup. She MADE it. It was gray vinyl with floral print trim. The pockets for music and bow and the handles were made with the floral print trim. It was perfect and the envy of many in the youth orchestra. I played that cello for years. I stopped playing in college because I no longer played in an orchestra and the pegs no longer stuck in place to hold the strings in tune. I couldn’t justify the money for replacing the pegs. A new version of my life took over. Eventually, I sold the cello to help pay for yoga teacher training. I do miss it, though I don’t even know if I remember how to read music any more. Some times I think about buying another cello and maybe some day I will. But I will always be grateful for that first cello.

From the things my Mom has said over the years, I have a strong impression that she was never really supported in her passions as a child. I think that was her driving force behind doing everything to encourage us. When my brother showed an interest in art and an aptitude for drawing, she enrolled him in a prominent art class. When my sister wanted to dance, she put us both in a serious dance school. She drove us to dance class, art class, music lessons, and competitions. She made costumes. She did fundraisers. She spent money that Dad probably didn’t know she was spending. Mom did the best she could to provide us with the tools we needed for our creative outlets. Heck, she still does this; she gifted me a new journal at Christmas. I am reminded of Marmee March and how she encouraged her daughters in all of their endeavors even if those endeavors did not meet with societal propriety. My Mom was a Marmee March. It took me a long time to realize that not every kid had a Marmee March who would support their children in their creative endeavors. As grateful as I may be about that cello, I am even more grateful to have the kind of mom who supports creativity.

My Mom celebrated a birthday on Wednesday. And after a bit of a scary start to this year, I am also thankful that she’s here to celebrate another year of her life.