I was in the music store looking around waiting for someone to come to the front so I could pick up my son’s saxophone. Or more specifically my husband’s sax that he gave to our son for fifth grade band.
I remember fifth grade orchestra, and my attempts at playing violin. How that story ended is one for a different day, but suffice it to say ended in one of the most influential and traumatic experiences of my life.
Actually, that wretched (yes, I’m using the word I most hate) experience in grade school is what brought me to that moment from last Thursday.
At forty-plus I found myself in a music store and realized I’ve never been somewhere so foreign. I was milling around looking at instrument accessories and devices that I had no clue as to their purpose. I was more at home checking out fishing lures and bows even though I don’t fish or hunt.
The experience transformed me into the heroine of an unknown story. What scenario would bring a rhythmically challenged, tone-deaf woman to a music store, and what about the man she encounters? Is he a musician too? Would it be a stereotypical uptight woman meets free-spirited musician? What does she look like? Would he have equal pre-conceived ideas about her? Or being a speculative fiction writer, is there a hero at all? Maybe she meets someone who is to send her on a quest or the music store a portal into another realm. Story ideas are brewing.
What is the most “foreign” (not country or cultural) place that you’ve visited?
Think about that place. What is your story?