The End of the Bass Bells

Every week is a new adventure for her. Every rehearsal is not quite the same. And thus, she can hardly wait to be able to play bells for that one hour a week.1

Her love is the bass line, where it is easy and simple, yet hard and complex. Where the foundation of all the music is. Playing the bass bells is her true love.2

Four or five weeks into the new season, she notices her right wrist weakening. She chooses to ignore it, and use a wrist guard. But she wonders how long she will be able to last in her treasured position. One of the curses of scooping ice cream has begun to manifest itself.3

She pushes forward, willing herself to not give up. There are some rehearsals that she can not even pick up the bells with her right hand, forcing her to mallet the whole time. She refuses to think of what will come.4

For three or four years, she has had the best time of her life playing as many bells as required of her. Perhaps it is a natural talent, or perhaps it was acquired during the times that others beside her were absent. At any rate, she was a reliable, flexible bell player. There was even a season, during her first year with a new choir, that she was dubbed “The Machine” by the director. Almost no music is too hard to be attempted by her, for every new twist is a new challenge to attempt and succeed at.5

The day of the performance comes two and a half months after the beginning of the season. In rehearsal, she knows she is not doing her best. Her wrist is bothering her a little more than usual, and she is unhappy about it. They play through the song three or four times, but even so, she is missing notes she usually does not miss. And during the performance, she misses a run of notes that she has been able to catch without too much difficulty. She is critical of herself, for it would seem that nobody noticed, except perhaps the director, that she missed notes that are not normal for her to miss.6

After the bells are put away, she knows that what she feared was true. She would not be able to play her favored bells anymore. When she tells the director, he acknowledges the fact, and lets her know that he has been waiting for her to admit that she is unable to continue in the position she adores.7

Only time will tell if she will ever be able to play where she once did. And only time will be able to wipe away the sorrow she felt when she admitted to herself that she can no longer play the low bass bells.8