Almost seven years ago, we had a bagpiper play during our wedding ceremony as we entered and left Ss. Peter and Paul church on a sunny afternoon in Rocklin, Calif. Later, Nurse Dave (he had a day job) piped at our reception during our entrance into my parents back yard.
Mr. T and I have known each other for about 14 years, so I can't remember when he first shared his desire to be a bagpiper. It probably wasn't when we were in college, but even then I knew he is passionate about his Scottish roots.
Yesterday, he paced all over the living room. At every woosh outside the front of our house, he ran over and looked through the peep hole.
"Why don't you go sit outside on the curb," I smiled at him.
Finally, the unmistakable sound of a UPS truck stopped in front of our driveway. Christmas morning flashed in Mr. T's eyes. I ran upstairs to get the camera.
He took his time opening the box, then carefully unwound bubble wrap from each pipe. I snapped away like my mom used to do on our first day of school.
He's been taking bagpiping classes for about eight months, but up until now used a practice chanter. (Think recorder from fourth grade music.)
Now he has the real deal. I'm proud of him.
I bet the neighbors aren't too excited, though.
Did you follow a dream? Are you chasing one now?
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Comments are better than therapy!