As my dad and I scurry inside the restaurant, the warmth hits me and my body begins to stop shivering. The sweet aroma of buttered breadsticks and warm pasta enchants my nostrils as I graze in. I look around, past the waiters and waitresses dressed in all black with big menus in their hands, searching for familiar faces to sit down with.  As we look for my family, I pass people enjoying themselves and chatting. Some are couples young and old, some families, some friends. Some are celebrating, some just catching up with one another. The chatter of the restaurant blends together with the soft and gentle Italian music to create a natural and pleasant sound. As I spot my family sitting down together at the table, their normal bickering ensues and stops momentarily as they recognize that we have arrived. The table is decorated with neatly wrapped presents in colorful gift bags and crisply folded wrapping paper. Bright balloons that read “Sweet 16” and “Happy Birthday” gracefully dance above us. A cake with whimsical clouds of pink frosting and beautiful flowers adorning it alongside the elegant cursive writing on top of the desert sits on the table waiting to be cut into.

I sat in my seat at the table waiting for my guest to arrive. I sipped my ice water as I looked out the frosty window looking for his car. Cars drove by on the slick snowy road and as each one passed it wasn’t him. I looked over at the empty chair next to me and at the lemonade we had ordered for him where he was soon to be seated. All of a sudden, I feel two cool hands nudge my shoulders from behind. I take a quick breath, startled, and spin my head back to see him right behind me. I jumped up with a smile and greeted him with a warm hug and a slightly awkward quick peck because we were in front of my parents. He stood a little taller than me, with his dirty blonde hair gelled up at the top making a neat swoop to the side like a wave of sand. His big round eyes were blue like the ocean and seemed to pop out of his dull black glasses which balanced on his wide nose. Mike looked very comfortable, but a little underdressed because had come from a rehearsal, wearing a cobalt blue quarter zip up and classic black wind pants.

We ate our dinners as Mike made conversation with my little brother about Star Wars and video games. I sat there, uninterested in the topic, but pleased to see that he was getting along with my family and that the situation wasn’t too awkward. When the time came to open presents, I left the most special one for last. I had a clue of what I was hoping it would be, but I had a clue. After opening the sentimental bracelet from Mike and a matching necklace and earring set from my family, it was time to open the last gift. My mother beamed her beautiful smile that made her eyes glow and her teeth sparkle in a way that only happened when she was genuinely happy. My dad shot me a mischievous grin as he reached down under the table to discreetly pull out his phone. I leaned over to left to pick up my last present that sat next to me on the floor begging for attention. It was heavier than I had expected and I placed the gift in my lap, ready to start unwrapping. I started to delicately tear the paper at the ends where the tape lay concealing the surprise. As soon as I saw the word “Bach” appear, my excitement overpowered my patience and I began ripping and tearing left and right.

My father asks, “What does it say on the box there?”

I quickly exclaimed, “It says Bach!” gesturing to the box with excitement.

He replies matter-of-factly, “It says Bach Stradivarius…”

“Wait, is that-”, I stuttered as I looked down at the box in my lap as my dropped dropped seeing the make of trumpet that was now mine.

A man sitting at the table across from others watches and joked “Is that a car?” with a booming chuckle.

“No, it’s not a car it’s a trumpet!” I gushed still in awe of my horn. “I am I allowed to open it?”

“Yes!” My parents urged.

 I opened my trumpet and I opened a whole new realm of possibilities. The luxurious brown leather case was complete with bronze buckles. As I opened the case, the trumpet stood up vertically, not on the side like most cases. The horn’s stance had a special confidence and prestige it. The inside was laced with delicate blue velvet.  It was bright silver and reflected light at every angle. It was so smooth and dent free. This new trumpet was an extension of my growing love for music. The instrument glistened like the sparkles in my eyes when I play my heart out and know that I have put everything into my performance. Band is what makes sense to me and where I feel like I belong more than anywhere else. The new professional horn meant that I had earned it. The six years of work, practice, time, and effort was really paying off. The new horn represented success and growth. Because of my diligence and hard work, I was going to be able to become a better musician. The new trumpet meant that I was a serious player and on to bigger and better things.