Tears
rolled from my
eyes as we
marched back to the buses. A
legacy had come to an end. My last
performance with this
group, ever. I
submitted to the
shock of it, and let myself pour out.
It must be different for people that march drums. The entire hornline seemed to be just fine, while my senior percussion comrade and I sulked in the shadows of one of the coldest days I've ever known. The younger members of the section didn't understand what was wrong. I only told them one thing.
"I'm proud of you."
I packed up my drums, along with the swizzle stick that had snapped in half with the energy of the final two measures of the best show I'd ever played. Out with a bang indeed.
They say that all good things must come to an end. I don't know how my good thing could have come to a better end.