How's the violin?

I was walking with my mother on the street when I caught a glimpse of a musical instrument store with a glass display window, and I also caught a glimpse of the violin hanging in the display window, and my curiosity immediately swelled up. I immediately pointed to the violin and said, "Mom, I want that thing." My mom thought I was joking and said, "Let's go home first, and then I'll think about buying it for you when we get home." I got excited and walked ahead of my mother with great enthusiasm.

When I got home, as soon as my mother put down the bag in her hand, I pestered her to buy me the violin. My mother seemed impatient with me and shouted, "It's too late, go to bed, you can talk about such things anytime." I did get a little sleepy, and in the face of this attitude of my mother, I was also more or less afraid, immediately ran back to his room.

Late at night, I did not sleep, all I could think of was my mother's yelling and violin. When the door seemed to be opened, I moved a little and put my head under the covers, and I heard my mother's voice, "Are you still awake?" I replied, "Yes." I felt the side of the bed sink slightly, and my mother's voice came closer, "I'm sorry for talking too loudly to you at night, son!" "Hmm." "Do you want that violin?" "Em!" So that's called a violin, I thought to myself. "Mom made a decision tonight, it's your birthday in a few months, and if you still want it a week before your birthday, Mom will buy it for you." Without waiting for me to answer, my mother gently closed the door and went out.

On the day of my birthday, I managed to get this thing I wanted, and my mother repeatedly told me to make the most of this opportunity, to love it, to know it, and master it. My mother enrolled me in a violin class, and I quickly learned about the usage of the violin and how to play that one beautiful note with it. Actually, at first, it was a curiosity and a pleasure, and when I remembered my previous childish thoughts, I felt a bit silly. "To practice the violin is to practice hard, is to practice to death, as long as the practice does not die, we have to practice to death." This was a phrase that my teacher often told us, and every time I came back from a lesson, my shoulders were always sore. At that time, the repetitive and monotonous life of practicing the piano made me think of giving up.

One day I finished my lessons and asked my mother if I could quit, but she looked at me with astonishment, as if she had seen some monster. I cried, and so did my mother. Before going to bed, my mother grabbed my shoulders and said, "Child, learn well, it's your choice, you can't give up so easily." I stayed up all night.

After a few months, I did not want to learn, my mother, as usual, scolded me, I did not listen to her, and argued with her, that was the most intense argument with my mother. After that, I put the one thing that once attracted me the most into the corner that attracted me the least, as if it had never been loved by me.

Then I moved and found the violin when I was sorting through boxes in my new home. I took it out, brushed it gently, wiped the dust off of it, tried to remember the original feeling, picked up the one string, but had long forgotten how to play it, and I cried out.

"Son, originally you could have learned it well as a talent of your own, but you ended up giving up what you had originally learned for various reasons." These were the words my teacher said to me in my last class, and now I think about it with a bit of regret. The violin was so out of reach, yet so within reach. I almost held it, but I let it go and I never dared to touch it again. It is a scar in my heart, a scar that hurts when I touch it, and today I want to take it out again and greet it, "Violin, how are you?"