Jun 26 2009 / When a Spoiled Baby Whimpers

by Egalita Irfan, 08-09 Indonesia
Hosted in Dublin, OH

She stared blankly at the music.

The violin sat on her lap, glaring at its owner, wondering why she stopped playing so suddenly.

It’s been 30 minutes.

30 minutes of nothing. 30 minutes of silence. 30 minutes of recalling.

She knows this will eventually happen, and she’s prepared for it. At least that’s what she thought. The realization, however, is not as simple as the theory.

’I’m going back to where I belong’, she thought, ’shouldn’t I be more excited?’

She sighed. Realizing that she’s been wasting time, she lifted her violin, and started playing. This time she’s being super careful not to play Beethoven Piano Concerto No. 3 or Rhosymedre, or any other songs that she’d played in her beloved Dublin Scioto High School Orchestra.

But she knew it was too late.

She knew she couldn’t do anything about it. All the memories were coming back to her, squeezing her brain, banging her feeling, and tearing herself apart.

She’s not ready yet.

Not ready to leave all of the euphoria she’s already got used to. It’s not that she was not grateful for her life back home. It’s just different. When she went, she knew that she’d come back somehow, so despite all of her sadness and sorrow to leave her beloved family, she encouraged herself to go, and so she did, to experience a complete new world for her.

But this time, she doesn’t know if she’ll have the opportunity to come back. She doesn’t know if she can see these people that she loves again. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever talk to them again.

Spoiled little baby.

Probably she is one. Over-pampered kid who demands for everything, even the absurd ones. She wants her life back, yet she whines to stay longer. People have been telling her to be more mature, but she just can’t help it.

She gave up and put her instrument away. She looked at her violin, and smiled; at least she tried to. She remembered perfectly every single thing that happened in orchestra ever since she came here. Every song, every rehearsal, every concert, every small thing that made her laugh. She smiled still until she came to realize that she’s not gonna be here next year.

‘Stop it’, she told herself, ’You’re just hurting yourself even more.’

Even her brain didn’t work as she wished.

The flashback in her head kept going. Music, band, marching field, drumline, marimba, symphonic band, her first pre-game, her part in Star Spangled Banner, the freezing weather on band competitions, her first friends in the pit, her moments on parades; everything that colored her days.

She remembered the feeling of being an outsider on her first day in the band camp. She knew how hard she struggled when she first touched and played the xylophone. She realized how everyone has really supported her, that she’s now an actual part of the percussion section. She’s aware how she’s different, yet people are still willing to stay by her and help her.

She closed her eyes and turned her face away.

‘Is it really wrong for me to remember though?’ She hesitated for a while, although she knew she already had the answer.

It actually made her scared how time goes so fast, how her time will come and she has to go no matter what. It amazed her how things change; how the first months of her stay felt so bad, how back then she really wanted to just go home. And now, she gets to an incredible dilemma about wanting to leave and stay at the same time.

Humans are creatures that are never satisfied.

It’s not that she’s blaming herself that she came here. She’s glad that she stayed and learned instead of being a coward and closing herself to people. She’s now open to new things, and she believes she knows what’s best for her.

It just hurts to leave.

She used to get everything that she wants, however this time she knows no matter how loud she cries and screams, she gets to leave. She really is selfish, but this time, she’ll give it a try.

‘There is no need to be gloomy’, she tried to ensure herself. She has 4 days left, and she’ll make sure they’re memorable. She knows that now she has her second home that she’ll always be able to go back to. She understands her feelings and love to her host family and friends, and she’s aware that they love her too.

And she believes for sure, that her next year back in her beloved country, Indonesia, will be as wonderful.

She lets a tear drops; but just one. No more.

She is me, just an ordinary exchange student.