An Awfully Big Adventure

All the Stupid, Lovable Things

A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome to my first short story being posted in this short story collection! 

This has been written for Coffee Community's It's Okay To Not Be Okay contest, celebrating October as Mental Health Month! My chosen prompt was, "The last time you laughed really hard." Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1026

Truth be told, I can't exactly remember the last time I laughed really hard.

That sounds like such a dismal statement, and, half a year ago, my life really was that depressing. School. Homework. Practice. It all repeated itself and ran together, cementing itself in my memory as nothing much more than a blur. My recollection of that time is like a video taken from a moving car; only becoming clear at the random moments when the car stops at a traffic light, or a stop sign.

These past few months have changed that, however.

Sure, the stresses of life as a high school student are still there. Eight hour days. Chemistry tests and assigned readings of The Importance of Being Earnest, by Oscar Wilde (quite a dull play, in my opinion), and the clammy, shaky hands that accompany my solo practice performances of the flute All-State etudes, no matter how long I've practiced.

What really turned my life around was the marching band season.

On the surface, that likely sounds insane. Marching band season means two-and-a-half hour practices right after an eight-hour school day. Marching band season means sweat running down your face, your back, your neck, means learning your step counts and dots under the ruthless sun. Marching band season means Saturdays spent at contests, instead of relaxing, uncomfortable hats that aren't considered tight enough until they're practically strangling you, and trying to pull off all your gear while crammed into a seat on a school bus.

But it also means so much more.

Marching band season also means weekly football games, which, although possibly a bit off putting at first, slowly becomes one of the favorite parts of everyone's season. Marching band season means Saturdays spent with your friends, means a tight knot in your stomach at the thought of your upcoming performance, means gripping the arms of your bandmates in anticipation as the results are read out loud, from the lowest to the highest. Marching band season means pushing yourself, to become stronger, quicker, better, so your group can succeed. Marching band season means excited chatter, and silly little traditions that we all adore, and candy passed around, and stand-tunes that are incredibly simple, but also incredibly fun.

It means section dinners, and impromptu games of Never Have I Ever, and teasing on all sides. It means congratulating each other on our performances, confiding in each other about our mistakes, helping each other improve.

Really, marching band season is a whole conglomeration of stupid, lovable things.

Marching band season means smiles. It means hugging each other and taking photos that you will cherish for the rest of your life and crying at the last contest of the season, because it's mostly likely the last time you'll ever get to play in harmony with the most of the seniors of your section, the ones who won't be back next year.

It means laughter, bright and clear, as unburdened and carefree as the wind.

I don't think I can come up with an adequate word to express the feelings marching season brings me. Is it challenging? Yes. Do I want to lay down and quit sometimes? Absolutely. But it's also so, so rewarding. All the evenings we've spent practicing together, all the little things I've learned about my fellow flutists, the feeling of being part of something bigger than myself, the euphoria as we're announced as finalists of the week's marching competition - I don't think I'd trade that for anything.

And my friends - they're absolute godsends. If I'm being honest, they're probably the light of my marching season.

After all, they're the ones who I've bonded with, who gently guide me when I mess up my marching or am struggling with a rhythm on my All-State music. They've welcomed me into their little group with open arms, and they even sometimes insist on waiting in their hovering car for my parents to arrive, when we arrive back at school late. They notice when I'm down and do their best to cheer me up. They make dumb wisecracks and remember and reuse all our inside jokes, never failing to make my face light up.

All this is to say, the marching season has given me so much. It's given me friends I never thought I'd have. It's given me, an athletically-challenged girl, a chance to be a part of a sort-of sport. It's given me strength, in the way the season always makes me push myself to be better.

There was once a point in time when I thought about quitting band, for several reasons, ranging from GPA to smarter career choices. But I stuck with it, and now, I could not be more thankful.

Because I genuinely cannot imagine where I would be without my experiences in band, without the friends I've made along the way. I cannot even come up with what classes I would have put in those two empty slots per year. I can't envision a world where I set down my beloved flute.

Now, we're transitioning to the concert season. And don't get me wrong - the concert season isn't not fun, and I don't love it any less. It's just less... wild than the marching season.

Maybe my life will become what it was before, a blur, as our coursework increases. Maybe, hopefully, it won't. I'll do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening. Because, despite how things are calming down, I don't want to feel like my life isn't still being lived to the fullest. I want to hold onto this feeling of joy, of freedom, of carefree fun.

Now, you might be wondering, all that is great and all, but what does that have to do with laughter?

Well, it has everything to do with laughter.

Yeah, as I was saying, I don't remember the exact last time I laughed really hard. But that isn't because I'm living in a dark pit of despair. It isn't because I didn't have enough to laugh at these past three months.

It's because I've bent over with laughter, tears streaming out of my eyes, more times than I can count. 

A/N: And that's that!

Firstly, this was actually very therapeutic to write. Usually, I draft a basic outline of my fiction works before starting to write, so I have an idea of where my story is heading. But since this was a personal narrative, not a fiction story, I just sat down and began writing. It really helped me let out my emotions and wrap up the loose ends as this year's marching season draws to an end. 

Do I really expect to win? Nope. This is literally 1000 words of me venting (speaking of 1000 words, this is probably the first time I have ever struggled  to meet the word count! My narrative works are always a lot shorter than my fiction ones). But I think the purpose has been achieved; while writing this, I forgot my worries for a while. I just lost myself in typing. And I got to revive some wonderful memories while doing it. 

Well, I hope you enjoyed! Please, come back next time, I have so, so many random ideas floating around in my noggin that I can't wait to put on a document. :D