Violin lessons

I want to remember these days of him learning to play the violin.  The squeaky notes, the look on his face as he concentrates, every time he hits a wrong note and he stops and says nope and then corrects the note.  I want to remember it all.  Even if there are days where it's not pretty, where my ears hurt because always my heart wants to burst and my eyes laugh.  Because he's learning and he is taking pride in that.

I want to remember how his face looked when he concentrated.  The way he named the notes out loud and hummed the tune as he played.  I want to remember the way his lips were crooked when he focused.  The sweetness of working hard.  

I want to remember his eye lashes and all his freckles and the roundness of his face.  And that indentation in his chin which is just like his daddy's chin and his nagi papa's (grandfather) chin.  The way it creases in there and makes his lips look more full.

I want to remember.

the chubbiness of his little fingers as they moved from note to note.  I want to remember that.  Because some days those little pudgy fingers will be a grown man hand and I want to remember what they were like when they held my hand.  

And I want to remember his smile when played the whole song perfectly, the joy he felt and the excitement that drew him into another song, more practicing, more smiling.

I want to remember these days of practicing because one day he may not play the violin anymore or maybe one day he'll be a seasoned violinist in a big orchestra.  Either way - I want to remember that sweet face and those sweet hands and the way he looked at 10 years old practicing his violin on an ordinary Tuesday evening.