We all went to the concert and listened to the first half dozen songs. Then I left. She sang. I returned. Under the floodlights she'd been unable to see whether I'd left or not. I could have stayed. Ah, well, I did the honourable thing. Anyone in the audience who saw me leaving likely thought I was being a terribly unsupportive parent, but there you are. I'm told she sang beautifully. I could hear a little through the wall. It sure didn't sound like my kid, but there's no doubt it was. A big strong confident voice. From the one who didn't speak more than a few words in public until she was at least 8. Afterwards there were lots of hugs from fellow choir members and the director. My unhuggable kid. Not so much anymore.
Choir resumes mid-March. "What will I do with my life until March?" she asks. Her friend S., the only other teen in the choir, commiserates. S. will graduate from the local high school this spring and return to Japan. I know Erin will miss her, but I also know that she has many other friends in the choir and she will still love it.
Last night Erin played the Preludio from the Bach E Major Partita for my aunt and uncle who are visiting from Australia. My mom and I had to agree after hearing her -- she now plays it better than either of us do. And I think it's official now that she has more friends in this little town than I do. She's got the whole danged choir for starters. I think I'm going to have to start to get used to being known as Erin's mom, rather than as myself.