Then I dropped it after going to middle school. It wasn’t until the pandemic that I wandered on the beach near Cramond Island in Edinburgh. I found two accordion players, wearing cowboy hats, playing in an outdoor bar nearby. At that moment, something awakened in my heart. Then I found a local accordion studio that was selling accordions before its permanent closure. Thanks to Alex, an excellent accordion player and repair expert, I was able to find my second accordion and start practicing it again.

Most of the pieces I had learned were forgotten—only 10% or less were still remembered. Picking it up during the pandemic was basically based on muscle memory plus some online videos. However, an inner peace was found during the practice, piece by piece. You don’t have to think about the burdens from the past or worry about the future—you just need to focus on the present. When I played the pieces again, a strange but familiar feeling emerged — it was like a time warp via the tunes combined with muscle memory—I returned to the weekends of my childhood. It triggered a cascade of warm and powerful sensory associations to the marked moments in the past. Some faded memories became clear again, as if they had just happened. For a moment, the family and cherished things I had lost seemed to come back to life again. It created a simulation of a memory box that I could open and review when I practiced the relevant piece, making it a peaceful harbor of the mind with fragments of memories.

Playing the accordion is kind of like a lost and found journey in life – an adventure of self-expression and experience-sharing. Many members in the RUK Orchestra shared similar experiences about playing the accordion. Rehearsing with them often reminds me of the classmates I lost contact with after the performance for Radetzky March many years ago. I’m fortunate to have found the community, and I am proud to be one of them. I believe the precious memories will be marked and kept in my peaceful harbor for the rest of my life.