She has not played the violin for years. She does not miss the calloused fingertips, the blackened fingers when the strings are new, the rough spot on the neck. She does not miss the hours of practice, the butterflies, the awkwardness of turning sheets of music on the black stand that could never be adjusted to the right height. She does not miss the sticky rosin dust or the girl who played better than her. And she does not miss the music, for that is with her now, like a voice, clearly heard since all noise, all interference dropped away. Erica Olsen

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