I used to play the trumpet. I started when I was 10 and played all through high school but then stopped when I went to college. When I moved to Barcelona, I saw many of my friends who were musicians playing gigs every week and it looked like good fun performing on a regular basis. So I was inspired to buy myself a new trumpet. I soon found a group to play with and I performed for over two years with Afrodisian Band here in Spain. Then I stopped. I realized that I have too many things in my life that require a lot of attention and I prioritized. And the trumpet ended up in a box under the bed where it has remained dormant for about two years now.

The other day, Bob asked me if he could borrow my trumpet. Having never played the trumpet, he was curious and wanted to try his hand at it. I said, “OK”, but I knew I had to clean her up first. So yesterday, I pulled the box from under my bed, wiped the layer of dust off the case, removed all the tuning slides, scrubbed the inside of her, cleaned the mouthpiece, oiled the valves, greased the slides, and polished the brass. Then I went outo n my terrace and had a play. I still remember most of the songs we used to play when I was with my band. It was fun. But it was strange. I can only compare it with the following analogy:

You’re in a relationship with someone and you’re happy. It’s fun and easy, but for one reason or another, you realize that it’s just not meant to be and so you break it off. You don’t see each other for a couple years until, one day, you bump into each other by chance on the street. You start talking, go to a cafe together to catch up, one thing leads to another, and you end up going home together. You proceed to have a one-night-stand with your Ex that proves to be just as much fun as when you were together and things were fine. And then they leave.

I wonder if I’ll see her again.