In this memory, I’m nine years old. It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m attending a group lesson at a local music school with my friends.
There are five of us in the room. Our teacher plays a melody on the piano, and we write down the notes as we hear it, trying to recover the melody in our notebook. Other than the sound of the piano and our occasional random chatters, the room is mostly quiet.
There is a large window to my right, facing a parking lot. And right in front of the window are three tall fir trees.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of a crow calling outside. Once, twice, and again. Then I see a figure flying across the three fir trees.
That’s when I realize the sky, which was still bright when we started the class an hour ago, has darkened, signaling the sunset and the approaching end of the class. A smile plays on my lips, my mind already racing to think about the fun time I’ll have with my friends after the class.