Ms Berry Sax.

     My fondest memories as a musician surround the time in my life when I was with Ms. Berry. It was a short affair, one that will be remembered for the ages. Her name was Bari (pronounced berry) for she was the sweetest instrument I’ve ever known. And she taught me so much.

     When I first laid eyes on her, it was a bit off putting. The smell of dust and false velvet poured from the case. As I went through the process of assimilation the sweet familiar scent of cork grease and the bitter faint scent of valve oil wafted together. Even with age her surface still glistened like fresh polished gold; heavy, bodacious curves instilled in the frame.

     When I was called upon to entertain I was a bit nervous. Never before had I attempted to be master over such a behemoth beauty.

     The first time I blew there was nothing else like it. The taste of bamboo was bitter on my tongue; the feeling of the wood’s grain rough against my lips. Despite the taste I would never shy away from it. The cold metal rests smooth under my fingers. Pearly white buttons trail the length of it. My fingers settled into the indents.

     When sound erupted from the bell I was speechless, but not just because I was too busy pushing air through the metal. The deepest, richest sound I had ever heard. The bass was so powerful, it undercut all other sound. I could feel a soft rumble in my chest. She would lift my spirits when singing mid and top registers. She could bring my soul low and longing when we ventured in the bottoms of treble clef key.

     I knew I was hooked and, could never go back to smaller and simpler things. But alas, as I stated before it was only for a short moment in time, our paths parted. Her fate was to be locked away waiting for her next student. My fate was crueler forever longing to be in the presence of her again.