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It didn’t even occur to me until the chorus concert was almost over. Why were all these other kids singing solos, and Lily wasn’t getting up to sing one? She had auditioned, and her music teacher has always given her a solo before.
As we were walking home after the concert, I asked Lily about it. She said, in a matter-of-fact way, that many of the soloists were fifth graders. Since this was their last chorus concert before moving on to middle school, they deserved to be chosen for the solo lines. It was okay with her because she had already had had a lot of solos.
This made me even more proud of her than I already was. She was content.
I was sitting behind a mom and a dad at the concert. Their daughter was in chorus for the first time and each had a camera in hand to videotape their daughter’s performance. The dad moved over to get a better shot of his daughter, and so I had to move over so I could see Lily. I was just glad there was an empty seat next to me!
I used to be them. I wanted to capture every moment of Lily’s ballet recitals on camera. It took me years to realize that I was watching her on the screen instead of using my eye to see her right there, in person, on the stage. I began to take less and less video. Last night, I took one picture. That was it.
Will I regret it in the future? Will I wish I had more videos to watch, to remind me of Lily’s performances? Maybe.
Last night, however, I was not looking for the right angle to hold my camera or fidgeting with the record and pause buttons. I was watching my daughter sing and smile and enjoy her concert.
She was content. And so was I.
