Do not contact ... or so it seems

Last September, I started taking viola lessons again. I was timid, but was enjoying it immensely - so much so that we talked about me re-entering college and once again pursuing music as a career. Last November, my father died in a car accident and I lost my spirit, my joie de vivre. How could I make music? My soul felt crushed. Naturally, my teacher understood, and lessons ceased.

Several months later, she called. How was I doing? How were my plans progressing for school?

Many things had happened since then, not the least of which was my Christmas present to my partner, Merry. Her entire adult life has been spent at one job or another, never having the means to go to college ... and yet she had been willing to work a menial job to put me through school. On Christmas eve, I told her that it was time for the tables to turn - regardless of whether I got the promotion I had been gunning for (which, incidentally, I did get), it was she who would go to school first.

And so it went - we prepared mentally and emotionally for the momentous change that was about to take place.

.: Fast forward to the phone call :.

How was I doing? Was I excited for school?

I was faced with a decision: do I tell her over the phone, or do I make small talk and schedule a time to meet in person? I plunged ahead - I told her over the phone that my education would once again go on hiatus so that my beloved could go first. I was not eloquent. I stuttered and stammered. I was under pressure - she of all I did not want to let down, but I felt convicted, and remain so, that these new plans feel right in my heart.

Though she offered her congratulations, it sounded strained. We said our goodbyes and hung up.

I wish I had told her in person, so I could read her better, and she me. Would things be different if I had?

That conversation in February was the last time we've spoken, though I have made a few attempt at contact since then.

I tell myself she's a busy woman. She has a studio within the college, as well as a thriving one outside of the school.

But I can't help but wonder ...

I feel I've been a problem child. My departure from Academia was not graceful in the least; rather, a hasty exit Stage Left. I know she invested herself emotionally into my education - she's an amazing teacher, very involved - and felt disappointed when I left. When I resurfaced, she seemed beside herself with excitement, as was I.

So it isn't a stretch to imagine she felt disappointed once more when, on the verge of starting lessons again, I told her my news.

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Something to consider, too, is that I am prone to spells of paranoia by times. This could all be in my head, and I fully recognize that. When I think about this, I feel sad, frustrated, but not obsessive.

I have held out the hope that she'll contact me again, but I fear the time of waiting has passed. I am practicing - again, timidly - and if I am ready for lessons, I have another teacher I can contact, one that would be closer to home.

But I miss my professor.