It was July 2, 2016, and the fact that I would be playing in Carnegie Hall had not yet hit me as I turned at the corner of 57th Street. I pushed open the door of the backstage entrance and was greeted by a woman who directed me where to go. I ended up at the main backstage area, sheet music in hand, and made my way to the chairs where the performers were sitting.
I went through my pre-concert ritual, which includes tying up my hair and replaying my repertoire in my head. I thought about the passion, liveliness, and emotion that I was going to bring to the stage. Playing at Carnegie hall was supposed to be a dream, seemingly unattainable. Yet there I was sitting backstage.
Out I walked into the crowd of unfamiliar faces, head high and back straight, with a wide smile on my face. I spotted my parents beaming and clapping vigorously. I sat down at the piano and stared at my reflection, wondering how many people have gazed at this mirror.