My footsteps echo in the nearly-empty hallway as I carry my uniform to the uniform room to hang back up for another week. Band members congratulate each other and grin as we pass each other, giving each other high fives. Band mothers remind us what to do with our uniforms as we hang them up. Every thing I've been wearing under my uniform smells like sweat, even though I swear I put on more antiperspirant than usual. I open my school locker and hang up my leggings, my shorts, my socks, and my extra shirt. The locker vents will let them air out over the weekend.
Its been a successful night- a 44-8 win against Morehead, and the Nighthawks, or Dirty Birds, are more than ready to move into the playoffs. Senior night has come and gone, and the seniors are starting to really realize that this could have been their last home game.
Senior Night brings with it a lot of bittersweet memories and feelings. For every senior, the cliff-hanging suspense will begin. "Is this my last game? Is this my last night on the field? Is this my last chance to hold up my arms in victory as we come to another touchdown? Is this the last time I will hang up my uniform, pull out my marching shoes, close my locker, pick up my lyre?" For the underclassmen, we wonder if this is the last chance we will have to look up to our seniors as they show us how a drill is marched perfectly, how to tie a perfect know in our marching shoes so they won't come unlaced but they are easy to take off, the last time we can ask them how to finger the double high C, and this may be the last time we see their faces light up at another touchdown. Sometimes, things like that happen in slow motion.
But the best part about senior night, after all the gifts, the cheering, and the tears, is the speech. From the Seniors to our beloved band director/ father figure, Mr. Ed Kimbrough.

The Seniors stand up. They each have their own part in this, and every year we add to it. The underclassmen start pounding the echoing tables in an oddly quiet cafeteria. "SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!" We all yell, pounding and stomping. Eventually, with a signal from our Spirit Captain, we quiet down. And the speech begins, each Senior chiming in with his/her own memory or special note.


Mike starts us off, pulling of his signature shades and running a hand through his already buzzed sandy hair (he's headed to the Air Force as soon as he graduates).

"So, ummm...I didn't imagine much of a speech today, but more of a testimony...You see I wanted to share a dream I had with all of you.

I had a dream that a middle-aged bald headed white man would come to a new school.
I had a dream that the bald man came with hardly anything to work with.
I had a dream that the bald man was so dedicated to the program, he marched with us.
I had a dream that the man would take some of us to the wild world of Disney Land and the bustling city of New York."
Nick Purdy steps up, with his odd hair cut and his nasely slang voice and intones, "I had a dream of a man so kind he helped me get my finger out of a Tuba."
Mike continues.
"I had a dream that there was a band that would be asked to quiet down, so the team could hear the snap count.
I had a dream that the bald headed white man would take his band along the road to the football team's state title TWICE.**
I had a dream that the bald man inspired band students to continue playing music in college.
I had a dream that the man would inspire leadership and creativity, which fostered traditions for a school that had none.
I had a dream that I watched band members come out of their shell and step up as the band became stronger both in music and in friendship.
I had a dream that his band would be voted "Best Band" in Guilford County.
I had a dream that no one could have a better band, thanks to this bald man's leadership.
I had a dream that a community would bet for the bald man's band to play at every football game.
I had a dream that traditions of excellence are continued every Friday night."

Here the seniors stand up and start yelling at the top of their lungs: "I HAD A DREAM!!!...I'M LIVING THAT DREAM!!!"

We all scream as chills run down our spines. Then we quiet down to hear the last part of the speech, as Kimbrough sits there and we wonder if he's getting misty eyed, or if its the lights.
Mike's voice falls to a perfect pitch and we shiver in delight as he reads on: "Mr Kimbrough, you've brought us a long way. You've been with us seniors all through high school and now this could be our last home game as a Dirty Bird. Shout out to all the seniors, and that middle-aged bald headed white man who brought us all together.


THIS IS WHO WE ARE!!! WHO ARE WE?"


"NIGHTHAWKS!"

"WHO ARE WE?"

"NIGHTHAWKS!!!"

"WHO ARE WE???"

"NIGHTHAWKS!!!!!!!"



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!







**As it looks right now, this will be our 3rd State Title. We'll find out Saturday around 10!!

I had an amazing day yesterday. But at the end of the day, I got a look in the mirror, a kick in the gut. Ouch.
It's amazing how long it can take us to admit we did something wrong. Its taken me a long time- too long.
I saw people today that I haven't seen in years- and instead of the judging I was expecting, there was total acceptance and love. Now I'm beginning to wonder how much hurt I actually inflicted on myself, and how much I hurt others.
And maybe, no one ever did judge me.
Maybe, just maybe, I was so afraid of being judged, that I judged myself and myself up to impossible standards....and then blamed others when I fell on my face.
I mean, that's the easiest thing to do, right? Blame others?
Going back taught me a lesson. It was a bittersweet lesson. I was ashamed of myself for being so angry and bitter at such loving people. They only always loved me- why didn't I see that? Was I that wrapped up in myself- was I the only person I cared about, the only person I saw?
Today, I was loved. I was hugged, and teased affectionately, and conversed with childhood friends with a freedom I haven't had in a long time.
These people know me- knew me- and want to keep me in their lives.
While I got stomach cramps from laughing with my bestest friend from 11 years ago, I was simultaneously feeling like crying. Had I hurt her with my anger? Did I shut her out like I did everyone else?

And yet, she still sat with me on the bed and sand songs with me while I tried to figure out tenor. She gladly hopped up and grabbed me water and more brownies while I told them stories about the world I live in.


Its raining on the way home.

I feel like its washing away the last bit of my bitterness, my anger, with its gentle whispers of freedom.

There's a song I have fallen head over heels in love with. Drops of Jupiter, by Train( Go here to see the video if you've never heard it before or if you're just a diehard fan of awesome music). At one point in the song, it says, "Tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded, and that Heaven is overrated?"
I love how he says that. Everyone always goes on and on about how heaven is the bestest place on earth...and I don't doubt it is- for about 2 days. Maybe a week. But after a few thousand years, or maybe even a few months, I think we'd get tired of seeing it. Of being there. Of constantly having nothing to do...nothing to learn...nothing to stretch our minds on.
I don't think I'd be very happy there.
Heaven is supposed to be perfect, right?
Here are a few problems with that, however.
We love perfection. We crave it, we lay awake in bed and wish that our lives were perfect. We want to change everything so that its perfect. But if life were perfect, we would stop being thankful for everything. We would no longer stare at the Northern Lights, our mouths hanging open. We wouldn't head to the beach to enjoy long sandy walks because we would no longer be marveling at the beauty in front of us. Heh, there wouldn't even be a beach, probably, not like we know it, anyway, cause the water would be clear as a lake, not cloudy. We wouldn't need those amazingly strong structures known as lighthouses. We wouldn't get to see them coated in ice in such a way that they look like frozen candles. We wouldn't know the joy of warming our hands over a fire because we wouldn't get cold (Ok, that last one is assumption because I hate being cold).
Would we enjoy rare treats as much as we do now? Probably not. I wouldn't love wildlife as much, because, well, hell, they're all getting along.
Problem is, in a perfect world, there is nothing to learn. No winning sides in sports. And I'm not happy without some sort of competition (I'm fine without competition between girls, but I mean, who would be the best bassoonist? No one, cause we'd all be equal).
We wouldn't be hurt, therefore we could no longer learn to heal or forgive.
There's just a whole bunch about heaven that makes me wish that it didn't exist.
We wouldn't know what its like to be 'so afraid to fly, you never land.' We couldn't overcome fear. Wouldn't that suck?


Well, I'm headed to trace my imperfect and wonderful way through the imperfect constellation...maybe fall for a shooting star with a permanent scar...cause scars show that we've learned. Later, I'm dancing along the light of day. Cause that's never perfect either.