A Hug?

It was my seventh grade year and I was excited for band to start (at the time, yes, I was a band geek). The previous year I had worked relentlessly to better myself at playing my instrument, the trumpet. I thoroughly enjoyed playing the trumpet, with its ability to hit many notes and the deafening noises that I could extract from it. My work had paid off and I was one of the best trumpet players in my class. By the end of the year I was clearly the best trumpet player and was without a doubt in my mind going to be first chair next year.

I was right, I came in, a seventh grader, first chair but lacking the enthusiasm that I had possessed the year before. That trimester I coasted along because I became disinterested in playing the instrument I had once loved to play. For that trimester’s concert there was a trumpet solo, and because I was first chair I had the honor of playing it.

The night of the concert came and I was pretty nervous, but it didn’t bother me much the reason being it was not a difficult solo. We went on stage to arrange ourselves into the classic half-circle with everyone facing the podium where our band instructor was going to be conducting. I only hoped as I set up my music that nothing would go wrong and I wouldn’t feel embarrassed in front of all these people.

The song in which I had my solo in came and we played along when the rest of the band quieted down to hear me play the solo. As I was playing I was only thinking about how to hit the next note just right and remember myself saying in my head that I nailed it as I continued to play the song mindlessly only reflecting on my solo performance. I was tremendously happy that I didn’t somehow make a fool out of myself and thought I was in the clear.

The concert ended and we packed up our instruments while parents began to gather to pick up their child. While the parents were coming I noticed one of my friend’s moms who came over to me and congratulated me on my solo. I thanked her and she extended one of her arms as if to give me a high five, but it also could be interpreted as an invitation for a hug. My mind began to race, thinking ‘I have never hugged another person’s mom before’ and ‘does she want a high five?’ The arguments and counter arguments for each action were being chucked back and forth in my mind when I though ‘if she is going for a hug and I just high fived her how would that make her feel.’ I decided to give her a hug and at once left her presence not being able to bear any more awkwardness. I could ask her still today what she was going for, but I doubt she remembers because it was a much bigger deal to me than I’m sure it was to her.