From the first moment I touched it, I knew that it wasmine. Its strong, curvaceous body gleamed and beckoned to me. My finger slippedand slid as I stroked it; I had never felt anything so smooth. Its strong neckrose upward triumphantly, and when I grasped it, I was astonished at its girth,the silkiness of its surface. I touched the strings, and they resonated in thehollows of its body. Yes, this was it.

This was my violin. I put it up tomy chin and closed my eyes. It was perfect. The violin became a part of me, itfit so well I didn't know where it began and I ended. It was so beautiful I wasafraid to play it. I was afraid of being even more in love with this majesticobject. Looks can be deceiving. If the violin sounded even half as beautiful asit looked, it would be mine forever.

After I played it for about 30seconds, I bought it. Since that fateful day, the union between my violin and mehas been eclectic, inspiring and arduous. Most of all, it has beenunforgettable.

I believe that more than anything the G string on my violinwas what put me over the edge in terms of desire. It was the very first string Iplayed. What a choice! The day that I was united with my soulmate, I had probablyplayed over 40 violins. Every G string had sounded the same: false. They wereweak and skinny compared to the other strings. The balance was completely off. Idon't know what it is with me and G strings. I think that a G string should belike the perfect man: strong and supportive, but also mellow and sensitive. My Gstring was just that. It spoke to me when I pulled the bow across it that firsttime, it reverberated in my soul. It was deep, mysterious and charismatic. Ityearned to be played and left me wanting more. To this day, it is still one ofthe best aspects of my treasured beauty. It is the little gem that balanceshigh-pitched arpeggios with a smooth, rich color. It is like my secret friend.

From the very beginning we shared a bond that only we knew led to thepurchase of my ethereal instrument. Just when I think that I have played everynote and conveyed every emotion through my violin, I am proven wrong. Every timeI take my precious out of its royal blue velvet-lined case, I enter a world sopersonal and electrifying that it can only be described as ecstasy. Indeed, myviolin is a drug. I am addicted to it. Sometimes I play a high-pitched, andantemelodic passage that is so beautiful I want to cry. It's as if, in that moment,my sound is so piercing that it is mingling with the angels in heaven. Othertimes, I get so caught up in a jazzy, syncopated beat that I literally dance inmy chair. It is because of pesante, dissonant chords that make my head buzz thatI keep going back to my violin. It is because of connections I make with fellowmusicians when we get so caught up in the moment that we look at each other andtry to disguise our stupefied grins. I will never stop playing the violin becauseit makes me feel alive. Every time I play it is a surprise and an opportunity toexperience things I never imagined.

In a way, I'm already married. I thinkabout my violin, I devote more of my time to it than anything else in my life. Ihave been playing since fifth grade, so we have been together for more than sevenyears. That is much longer than some marriages. My violin and I are involved. Weare like a couple who, despite the hassles of everyday life, still have notfallen out of love.

Of course, as in any serious relationship, we alsohave hard times and bad days. Sometimes my violin and I cannot cooperate. Whetherit is playing an F-major scale perfectly or nailing every note in my Bachpartita, sometimes I want to throw it on the floor and never look at it again. Itis so frustrating when I am trying my hardest to perfect my intonation and myteacher still yells at me.

Those are the times when I get depressed,angry even. Sure, I might be mad at the violin for a couple of days, annoyed thatit is making my life so difficult. But I always come back to it. We talk it overand practice for hours on end and eventually make up. Then everything is okayagain, until the next time. Quarrels now and then are perfectly normal, though.It tests our commitment. I could never leave my violin because I love it toomuch. I suppose you could say that we have a love-hate relationship.

Myincredible violin teacher once told me something I will never forget: "Yourviolin is alive." It took some explaning on his part to understand, and hetold me that when a person plays the violin so perfectly the notes ring inprecise tones, a violin is no longer just a piece of wood with metal strings. Itvibrates and reverberates, just like a person. Obviously, it is nearly impossibleto hit every note perfectly all the time. That is what makes playing so exciting.When I finally do triumph over my intonation and reach a higher level it is worthevery moment.

I don't know where my violin will take me. Maybe I willgo down a conventional route and join a symphony, or maybe I will take a daringchance and join a classical rock band. Wherever music takes me, I know I will behappy because I will be doing what I love most.