So I fastened rubber bands around a green colored pencil and fetched a disposable wooden chopstick.
Then I showed mom my 'violin' and tried to play it(which made no sound of course).
It was actually the first step I took to learn playing the violin.
Playing the violin wasn't as easy as I thought.
It was like a swan making effort - it looks like swans glide easily on the water, but actually they are paddling furiously.
The end of my left fingers stung, and my hands kept slipping from the bow and the positions because sometimes they grew too nervous and began to perspire.
I had to stand up when I played the violin, and that position was harder than just sitting, of course.
The violin often squeaked and screeched, but when it made a proper sound, I became so happy and proud.
After two years of learning, I could finally play Boccherini's Minuet.
I played it on stage, and I still can't forget my shiny dress and the luminous lights and the sound of numerous clapping hands.
In spite of all the glory I felt that day, soon I had to stop learning the violin because I became too busy with schoolwork.
My violin was tucked into a case and put away in the closet.
I didn't have a chance to look at it or even find it, and still I had thought it would be fine.
And it was kind of 'fine' at first, because the violin was out of sight and out of mind.
I stayed like that for years not remembering or thinking about it.
But the soft, strong and vibrant notes of the violin did not disappear from my heart.
Now that the violin came back, everything started to come back to me.
The elegant look and sound, the interesting scent of resin and the feeling of the strings pressing against my fingers...
My new violin is made out of red maple, and I have a whole new case and a bow.
I'm so glad that I brought my old friend into life, and all the memories with it.
내가 그의 이름을 불러 주었을 때
그는 나에게로 와서
When I called her name,
she came to me
and became a flower.
- from 'The Flower' by Korean poet Kim Chun-soo(1922-2004) -