Autumn in my heart

Autumn came into my life with music that colored my seemingly mundane life, teaching me not just new songs to play but lessons in life I would not find anywhere else.

She had a rare beautiful sunburst finish, with a black ombré frame and wood rendered fine with age. Violinists who were older and more knowledgeable than me would stop for a chat just to ask where I got Autumn — my violin. I was a little girl at the time, and I would shyly thank them for the compliments about my violin.

In the beginning, she was my mom’s original companion. But since my mom was a busy bee, she could not play with Autumn often. Autumn was beautiful, eye-catching. One day, I asked my mom if I could have a try playing her. My mom agreed as long as I did not forget about what I learned from my black-and-white friend, the piano. I was really thrilled. The violin’s size was not even a problem; the standard violin size was already a good match for me even though I was only nine years old at the time. Like a child receiving a new toy, I started my weekly lessons with Autumn during the summer before my fifth grade.

Surprisingly, shifting instruments posed no problem for me. My knowledge of the piano made it quite a breeze. Everything was the same—all the notes were still there. They were just in different places, compressed into four metal strings and horsehair crafted into a body with a thin bow to produce sound. I was taught the scales, basic classics like Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major,” minuets and their different variations, the gavotte with its upbeat staccatos, and even the occasional pop songs that I also wanted to learn how to play.

Learning music was not limited to just knowing how to play an instrument and having the ability to learn whatever piece I wanted to play. It was also a way to share my gift, inspire others, and give back. In fifth grade, I learned that there were after-school club activities called SINAG (Socialized Instructional Activities for the Advanced Group) in my school. One group in particular, the SINAG Instrumental Ensemble, specialized in Music Education, performing in school events and Eucharistic celebrations alongside the SINAG Chorale.

I knew that my skills were fairly new, but with the encouragement of my mom, I took my shot, auditioned, and passed. I was able to meet other talented, like-minded people who were passionate about musical instruments. For the next two years, my days were filled with after-school practices and performances for school events.

Autumn, my dear violin, had been my companion all this time in growing, learning, meeting new people, sharing my talent with others, and inspiring others along the way. But just as time had flown by seemingly in the blink of an eye when I first started playing the violin, it was time for me to enter high school. Though my opportunities were limited to performing in school events, and there was no club for instrumentalists in high school, I would volunteer at any chance to play my violin.

When the pandemic came, opportunities to perform became even more scarce. Nonetheless, I always make sure that I am up to shape, practicing as frequently as I can while also devoting time to my studies. However, Autumn is no longer my current violin, as my violin teacher recommended in 2017 that I upgrade from a factory-made store-bought beginner’s violin to a semi-older handcrafted instrument that matched my skills. My new partner and current violin is named Hikari, which means “light” in Japanese. She has a dark mahogany wood, and her varnish is not as stark as Autumn’s because the wood of Hikari is older. It took some time for us to get along, but we are okay now. We have performed together on more than a few occasions, and it seems she will stay for a long while with me.

It has been a few years now since Autumn retired from my life. She was someone I always came back to — a home, a friend, a companion after a difficult day, a constant in my life that comforted me with her myriad sounds and prepared me to face a new day. But today she is perhaps another person’s violin. We sold Autumn sometime ago, and now maybe she is being taken care of by another little girl, who has given her another name.

My only wish is that wherever Autumn is right now, her beauty and her gifts continue to be appreciated, and that her new friend takes his or her time with her so they can also become true partners in their musical journey together. Autumn’s handprint on my heart will certainly remain forever.

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Erin Nacionales, 17, is a Grade 12 HUMSS student trying to self-study Mandarin Chinese and Swedish, and reading whatever book she’s fixated on during her free time. She likes cold brew and psychological thrillers.