On Sunday, Sidy called to ask about borrowing my drums for a school program this week.
"Of course!" I said.
I dropped them off to him, and as I was handing over my djembes, I realized that this meant three or 4 days without practicing. Without the smell of goatskin in my house, or on my hands. Without the feel of the backbone skin under my fingers.
It is amazing how much a part of my day to day life my drum has become.
I was happy to see it again at class last night.
We played through the Dansa rhythms and I noticed, for the first time, a little shift in the timing of one of the parts. I could hear it when Sidy played it, but was having a tough time figuring out how to do it. The beginners might not have even heard it, to be honest. As we were playing, I worked on shifting my hands a little to get the timing right. It felt different when I finally got it. I got it.
And Sidy could hear it. He looked up from what he was doing and smiled at me, nodding. Not a word. But we both knew that I got it.
These tiny successes are amazing. Each one is such a treasure. I never imagined that something as subtle a tiny hesitation of one hand could bring me so much joy.
I can't wait to get my drums back.