Tour Trunks

You would think after eleven tours the impact would lessen. I know to expect the trunks – tour can’t happen without them. They carry the uniforms, the instruments, all the equipment needing protection from the rigors of Interstate Highway travel and poorly kept back roads. By the time they appear in the band hall like bears from winter hibernation, we have been in tour rehearsals for nearly two weeks. The bus seating chart has finished making the rounds – tour is inevitable at this point.

But there is something about walking in to the Band Hall and seeing the great gaping mouths of the trunks – it is this event that makes me catch my breath. My stomach clenches, my breathing becomes labored, and there is a moment where my hands feel quite unsteady.

By the time I make my way to my chair, I have myself under control, but throughout that rehearsal with the audience of trunks, the strange little flutter in my heart never quite settles. Time is short, it tells me.

The excitement and anticipation of the first rehearsals fades and the remaining rehearsals are tinged with apprehension. I am leaving my family behind, that little voice tells me.

You would think, after eleven tours, I would be ready for the trunks.