"Marching On"

        It was hot; not just hot, it was burning, blazing, boiling, unimaginably hot. I can still feel the sweat working its way down the back of my neck. I grasped my trumpet tightly in an attempt to keep my hands from shaking. I focused my attention on anything other than the impending performance. But just as the thought of performance was pushed out of my mind, it would creep its way back. The sounds of performance echoed in the distance. And then there was silence. I strained to hear the music start again; praying to hear the beginning of yet another even longer movement. But my prayers went unanswered. The steady tap of a lone snare drum rang in my ears as the previous band retreated from the field

            And like soldiers, we were called to attention and began our long walk onto the battlefield, unsure of what lay before us and not too eager to find out.  I was alone and scared.

            The first detail I noticed was the grass. This grass was not our grass. It was not the same. I was a stranger in a foreign land.

            The percussion section sprang into action, and the show came to life. I fell into a dream of counting and marching, falling deeper with every passing second. I was no longer in control. I was nothing more than a gear in the middle of the vast machine of our band.

            I was tired, weak, and out of breath; I couldn’t keep going. But just as the thought of failure crept its way back into my mind, I came to a sudden realization: I am not alone. Thirty other people are marching the same show, playing the same music, wearing the same uniform; each just as tired as I am. It didn’t matter that I was tired. I could not let those thirty people down. I would not.

            As our performance came to a close and we made our way off of the field, the enormous weight of performance was lifted from my shoulders. We marched in the silence of satisfaction all the way back to the parking lot. I became aware that I was a small gear in the machine of progress; alone accomplishing nothing, but together with the help of my peers we were bound for success. I marched onto that field alone and scared, fighting my own battle, but we marched off as a band, a family, the strong victors of a battle that was all our own.