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But
in
my
family
,
playing
music
was
still
more
important
than
the
type
of
music
you
played
,
so
when
after
a
few
months
it
became
clear
that
my
love
for
the
cello
was
no
passing
crush
,
my
parents
rented
me
one
so
I
could
practice
at
home
.
Rusty
scales
and
triads
led
to
first
attempts
at
"
Twinkle
,
Twinkle
,
Little
Star
"
that
eventually
gave
way
to
basic
études
until
I
was
playing
Bach
suites
.
My
middle
school
didn
’
t
have
much
of
a
music
program
,
so
Mom
found
me
a
private
teacher
,
a
college
student
who
came
over
once
a
week
.
Over
the
years
there
was
a
revolving
batch
of
students
who
taught
me
,
and
then
,
as
my
skills
surpassed
theirs
,
my
student
teachers
played
with
me
.
This
continued
until
ninth
grade
,
when
Dad
,
who
’
d
known
Professor
Christie
from
when
he
’
d
worked
at
the
music
store
,
asked
if
she
might
be
willing
to
offer
me
private
lessons
.
She
agreed
to
listen
to
me
play
,
not
expecting
much
,
but
as
a
favor
to
Dad
,
she
later
told
me
.
She
and
Dad
listened
downstairs
while
I
was
up
in
my
room
practicing
a
Vivaldi
sonata
.
When
I
came
down
for
dinner
,
she
offered
to
take
over
my
training
.
My
first
recital
,
though
,
was
years
before
I
met
her
.
It
was
at
a
hall
in
town
,
a
place
that
usually
showcased
local
bands
,
so
the
acoustics
were
terrible
for
unamplified
classical
.
I
was
playing
a
cello
solo
from
Tchaikovsky
’
s
"
Dance
of
the
Sugar
Plum
Fairy
.
"
Standing
backstage
,
listening
to
other
kids
play
scratchy
violin
and
clunky
piano
compositions
,
I
’
d
almost
chickened
out
.
I
’
d
run
to
the
stage
door
and
huddled
on
the
stoop
outside
,
hyperventilating
into
my
hands
.
My
student
teacher
had
flown
into
a
minor
panic
and
had
sent
out
a
search
party
.
Dad
found
me
.
He
was
just
starting
his
hipster
-
to
-
square
transformation
,
so
he
was
wearing
a
vintage
suit
,
with
a
studded
leather
belt
and
black
ankle
boots
.
"
You
okay
,
Mia
Oh
-
My
-
Uh
?
"
he
asked
,
sitting
down
next
to
me
on
the
steps
.
I
shook
my
head
,
too
ashamed
to
talk
.
"
What
’
s
up
?
"
"
I
can
’
t
do
it
,
"
I
cried
.
Dad
cocked
one
of
his
bushy
eyebrows
and
stared
at
me
with
his
gray
-
blue
eyes
.
I
felt
like
some
mysterious
foreign
species
he
was
observing
and
trying
to
figure
out
.
He
’
d
been
playing
in
bands
forever
.
Obviously
,
he
never
got
something
as
lame
as
stage
fright
.
