He believed in me. He chose a song that echoed the words directed at me, "brown eyes". It was an unexpected and unacknowledged love. I beat the drums and looked down shyly. I was the only one who came everyday to drum class and sat there, willing and yearning to learn. His blue eyes shone brightly through his black framed glasses against his pale skin and his dark black hair. He taught me to find my own rhythm and inspired me. He asked me what kind of music I like to listen to. I ravaged my brain for the answer that he would be familiar with and settled upon the alternative rock side of my music taste as I said Imagine Dragons. He pulled up a song and played it. He sat down on the drums and started to beat the drums with a passion. He bit his lip as he tried to figure out the right drum pattern. He shook his head and said that that song may be too hard for a beginner. I think about that, I'm still a beginner, but once he was too. We are all seeds planted in the same soil, it's the way we grow that makes us different. He taught me how to use two parts of myself at the same time and make it work, and make it sound beautiful. So, he chose a song for me to drum to. I thought it was an interesting song at first. I concentrated so hard to try and impress him and show him that I could do it. He told me I was one of the best newbies he's ever seen.
And that's how we'd spend our 45 minute period together: he'd play the song and I would sit on the drums trying to master the beats so I could start to add riffs and cymbals. I would like how it would sound, and I would feel the goosebumps rise on my arm, stifle a smile, and choke back a laugh. I'm not sure why I had always thought that to show emotion was wrong. I sometimes feel like that's just something my soul has been taught.It’s been hard trying to teach myself how to love and how to receive it. He seemed to think I was too stiff, so he told me that drumming isn't a specific task that needed a lot of precision, like piano, it was an instrument where you can express yourself through your movements and sounds. He smiled as he told me how he used to go into his garage and beat passionately on his drums when he was upset to get the energy out. This would be something I'd have to get used to since I was a piano player. It wasn't until one of the last days where I was comfortable enough with the drum beats that I started having out-right fun. I added my riffs whenever it felt right. I savored the feeling of the smooth drumsticks beating against the insides of my hands, leaving me with callouses that lasted for at least a month after camp was over. I would touch them and smile, remembering our time together. I still don't know if I made as much of an impact on him as he had on me. When I got home from camp, I scavenged my brain for the name of the song, any lyrics, anything that could help me find the song. I couldn't think of it. A few days later I remember a few disjointed phrases and quickly searched them online. I found the song and played it. I took a two pencils from my drawer and started to make beats atop my summer reading book. I felt energy moving through my arms and I felt powerful. It wasn't until the second time listening to the song when the words registered inside my head. So, brown eyes, hold me near, you're the only song I want to hear. My eyes swelled up with sudden tears. I touched my heart. I didn't know if it was pure coincidence or if it was my own scheming mind trying to come up with a nonexistent plot. I stared in the mirror and I touched my face and stared into my own warm pooling brown eyes with an amber swirl inside. I couldn't help but smile, because he made that song special to me now.
When I went back to camp the next year and walked into the rock shop, I scoured the room for my drum guy, and I couldn't remember his name. I searched for the beautifully soft looking midnight colored hair and the frames that accentuated his striking ocean blue eyes. To no avail, I continued to the drums room, where they told me they needed a drummer for a camp band and I agreed. It was such an amazing experience; making music and collaborating with others to produce a beautiful song. I drummed along to an original song we made and then sang along to Ed Sheeran on our next song. People went crazy when I was rapping Ed Sheeran's "Don't". I was high on the feeling. For our next performance, we were in a smaller venue. I still put the same amount of effort into the performance. During our first song, I raised my head to look at the audience and I was completely flabbergasted when I saw my drum guy standing there with a smile on his face. I took solace in knowing he was there, seeing his product of his teaching. I hope I made him proud. I was too nervous to say something to him after the performance but I memorized this instant for my life. It was too good to be true. He was there. He saw me. He watched me perform. It was the best non-existent relationship of my life.