I quickly walked out of the room and rushed into the garden. I sat down on the grass. It sounded great, better, and I couldn’t believe it. I closed my eyes and then like the ring of a little bell, I heard someone say , "Apologize, Peter." I sat up instantly.

"Mom? Is that you?" , but the garden was empty. I thought of my mother. How gentle and kind she was, how beautiful her vibrato was, the way she enjoyed music, I was devestated when she left me. I remember her lying there on the bed, pail, frail, and lifeless. I felt the spring breeze blow upon me. It was chilly yet refreshing. I sunk into the grass. I missed her. I let myself drift away.

                      "More emotion Peter! More!This isn't how the piece should sound!" said my mother as she sat back facing towards me listening to my violin piece!

                  "But mother! I got all the notes and pitch perfectly and followed all of the dynamics in the music!What do you mean more emotion!!!!!" I stared at her.

             "Peter, music is for enjoyment and let's the artist come alive. You can't play it like a robot! The music must flow within you, it has to seep into your soul and that's how others will enjoy your music. Anyone can play those notes correctly Peter but what makes you special, is how you interpet the composer's message and relay that message through yourself and your music. You understand?" 

At that time being a young boy , I had never really understood what my mom meant by emotions and that other sort but now I completely understand.

When she left father and I , I understood what she wanted to teach me. Growing up and being surrounded by people who only play music for the title  or are pressured by the parents or who don't even want to play music was suffocating. I quickly shut myself off from those type of people and continued to play the violin my way and only my way. I never wanted to interact with any of them. Whenever I listened to their music, I could quickly tell. It was emotionlesss. 

Until I met her.