One year ago today, my cousin, my grandma and I took a trip to the Lewis Cemetery. Memorial Day was the day the three of us would visit all of our family members. Whether it be my grandpa, who passed away when I was in 2nd grade, or my great grandma Effie, we delivered flowers to each gravestone and my grandma made sure we knew exactly who we were honoring.
In October, my grandma, Margery Alice Johnson, passed away. It felt unreal placing flowers next to her grave this Memorial Day. Even so, I replayed the many stories she told in my mind. My grandma was the wisest woman I've ever known. The people of Atlantic knew her as the Democrat. I'm proud to be the granddaughter of "the Democrat." She always told me, "Now, focus on your studies Hannah. No boys." Obviously I haven't exactly stuck to that advice, but it's important to keep it in the back of my mind. School comes first.
In second place, though, comes music. Music has been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember. I started taking piano lessons when I was very young, and to be honest, I hated it. I loved playing the piano, but I didn't exactly like practicing... and I definitely didn't like the theory homework. Eventually, my parents allowed me to quit taking lessons. My grandma was heartbroken. She played piano her whole life, and even in her 80s, she loved to perform during church services. My mother took after her. She played like a pro, and was disappointed when I quit. Of course, I never actually stopped playing. To this day, I can sit at the piano and play for hours. It's the most relaxing, calming way for me to let out my feelings.
I'm so thankful that I never stopped playing. It's a connection to my mother and my grandmother that I will always cherish. Music runs through my veins like blood, and I am so blessed to have it in my life. That being said, I added band to my senior year schedule about a week ago. I thought it over for a long time. My mom always wanted me to play percussion, but of course, being the rebellious 7th grader that I was, I chose the clarinet. I quit after my freshman year. The band director, Mr. O'Donnell, finally convinced me to join again. This time, I would be a percussionist.
I missed the instrumental music in my everyday life. Even though I am in choir, I know my mom and my grandma are proud of me knowing that I'm doing this for them.
Another plus? I don't have to march at band camp.
