Cinderella of the String Family Olivia F. Vega

My journey as a violist began seven years ago, when I made a trip to my local music center and the director searched around in a cluttered inventory closet, pulling out a case. Inside lay my first viola. It was slightly off color, worn down and heavily used by students before me. A low quality model, its sound was nothing spectacular, but in that moment not a single one of those thoughts crossed my mind. I did my best to support the instrument on my shoulder and as my hand touched the smooth grooved wood I felt a strong connection. I immediately knew that this was the instrument for me. It simply fit.

The day had nearly arrived. I stood in my living room willing myself to practice the passage one last time. My entire frame ached as I lifted my bow to perfect the cadenza of my chosen concerto. Practicing had almost always been an enjoyable task for me, but that night, the stress of the upcoming audition filled me with self doubt and worry. I urged the thoughts to the back of my mind. There was nothing I could do but focus on the moment and try to immerse myself completely in my music. The feeling was completely enveloping, as if the sonorous waves coming from the carved wood perched on my shoulder were transportive. I was...