It’s the fall of 2017. I’m almost twenty-two. There are mere months till graduation.

 

I’m at work. I’m a barista. I’m making a drink when a coworker asks me my post-grad plans. I tell her about a banking position I’m interviewing for and, if that doesn’t work out, the work I hope to do in the University Development Office.

 

She asks if I regret wasting four years.

 

“I mean, you’re not even gonna play your horn after graduation. Don’t you regret wasting four years of your life?’

 

I smile a little bit. I tell her I don’t think I’ve wasted them at all. If anything, they’ve been a great four years, filled with lessons and adventures both within the walls of the music school and beyond them.

 

“Do you ever wish you’d just quit before even starting music school?” she asks.

 

“Never ever,” I say.