crestfallen

First I was going to do it, then I wasn't. Then again, I was. Now I cannot.

Last week, I was invited to join my composer-friend to travel here to record this along with her. The finished product was to be submitted here for the jackpot: a bonafide commission to complete the work. Talk about a gig being right up my alley! My list of household chores paled in comparison to such a treat as this.
Don't get too excited for me, though. For reasons too complicated to explain, I bowed out gracefully and allowed my composer-friend to find another pianist. He was sad. I was sad. The musical score had already been express-mailed however, so today I dragged myself reluctantly over to the post office to claim a package that I didn't really need. Might I also mention, a package that I wistfully rifled through with the teensiest hint of regret? (Okay, maybe a bit more than teensiest.)
Tonight, after I clean up my various paint-projects around the house, I will seat myself at the piano and read through what promises to be some amazing music while the rain patters on my window. I will inwardly wish that the "powers that be" at NYC Opera are dazzled by the lyricism and riveted by the libretto. I will long for the next opportunity to ply my craft in a meaningful way. I will toss the whole she-bang aside and write down the worship song that's been rolling around in my head for the past few days.
After all, I'm the one who said there's a blessing in the breaking.