My first performance (表演) in front of an audience was coming up soon.
I tried as hard as I could to remain calm, but my heart was racing.I stared down at my sweat-covered, shaking hands.
I looked up again at the audience, realizing that these were real people.They were not just my mum and dad, who would say, “Good job!” even if I messed up the entire piece.
What if I had the wrong music? What if I played the wrong notes?
As it turned out, I was never able to answer these questions because the spotlight (聚光燈) was waiting for me.I grasped my hands tightly together, drying off the sweat.
Slowly I walked to the mud-brown piano in the center of the room.It contained 88 demanding keys, which were waiting impatiently to be played..
I swallowed the golf-ball-sized lump (隆起部分) in my throat and sat down.Slowly, I opened the music..
Next, I rested my still shaking hands on the ivory (象牙色的) keys.
As my fingers played across the keys, I was becoming more unsure of my preparation for this moment.But the memory of my years of training came flooding back.I knew that I had practised this piece so many times that I could play it backwards if requested.
Although at one point I accidentally played two keys instead of the intended one, I continued to move my fingers automatically (自動(dòng)地).
My eyes burned holes into (were fixed on) the pages in front of me.
There was no way that I was going to lose my concentration.To keep this to myself, I leaned forward and focused carefully on the music.
When I came to the end of the page, a warning went off inside my head:DON’T MAKE A MISTAKE WHEN YOU TURN THE PAGE!
Needless to say, I obeyed myself with all my heart and mind..
And, proud of my “page-turning” feat (技藝), I finished the rest of the piece without making a single mistake.
After the final note died away, a celebration went into action inside my head..
I had finished..
I had mastered the impossible.
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