Well, tonight we had our second practice of the season in preparation for tomorrow's Fourth of July parade. I would have written about practice last night, at our first practice, but we didn't really DO anything.

Tonight, when we walked outside to work on Basics, we went onto the marching field. I've spent countless hours on the asphalt out there, and stepping back onto it again, I seriously felt shivers run up my spine. For a second, ghosts of us last year seemed to appear, but in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

It makes you wonder, honestly. What is time, really? How can a practice drag on for what seems like days and a week go for only seconds? How is is that summer seems so short and each day seems so long? How long have I really been away from band? Has it been six months or six years? These are all questions I asked myself.

At the end of practice, our director wasn't too pleased with us. The front line of trumpets (thankfully I was on the second line) wasn't playing with the exception of the single senior who was playing tonight. The director pulled the entire veteran brass line over to talk to us, then made everyone else leave while he addressed the trumpets directly.

Wait, when did I become a veteran? I haven't learned everything I need to learn to be a true veteran! I guess when you walk off the field of Indianapolis for the first time, you have become a veteran player. I don't know, I still feel like a freshie, even though some of the freshies are much worse than I ever was.

I guess tonight I've learned something. I've learned that life is constantly moving and I can't take a single second for granted. In three Thanksgivings, three Christmases, three Valentine's Days and two more Fourth of July's, I'm done. And when I graduate, there's no turning back. I have no plans to march college. I might go help at band camp when I don't have to carry a horn around. I'll show up for a practice every once in a while I suppose. But I'm not marching Corps. I'm not marching college (unless I need the scholarship). After high school, it's over.

And high school is going to end very, very soon. As excited as I am for it, I'm terrified. I don't want to leave my band behind.

Oh, well. I've got three more years.

Or is it going to be three more weeks? Or three more days? Or three more seconds?

Because time is never a constant.