The Colors of Sound

I feel like musical notes have colors—Do is red, Re is yellow, and Ti is purple or white—a notion likely influenced by the magnetic note board at the music school I attended long ago. The other day, while talking about how my second son associates colors with numbers, I remembered that for me, it's musical notes.

For me, music was the best (and only) subject I excelled at among the practical arts. It started with singing, and I went on to try the violin, harmonica, recorder, accordion, and trombone. Not having played the piano or keyboard is perhaps an unusual musical history for someone in their 50s.
I started with the violin because I happened to join a music school affiliated with a music college in the next town over through a relative's introduction, and because my large family didn't have space for a piano. I didn't improve much at the violin, but I enjoyed singing at sight and dictation during solfège lessons.

After playing in the brass band in junior high and the string orchestra in high school, I barely touched an instrument after my children were born. When I began caring for my family, I listened to and sang music less and less, and the colors of the sounds gradually faded away.

Music became a part of my life again through my children. I would mute their melodicas with masking tape to lower the volume while they practiced at home (they would take them to school like that, only for the teacher to find and peel it off), or I would be surprised by how tone-deaf they were and sing along with them while looking at the sheet music. Through these moments, the colors and sensations of sound began to return.

And they became much more vivid thanks to my children's junior high school choral festivals. When practice season arrives, the children start their independent rehearsals in the bath or the living room. Since we live in a place where sound isn't much of an issue (an apartment near a railroad crossing or a rented house), I'm grateful I don't have to be nervous about restricting them. I take time off every year to go listen to the performances, looking forward to seeing my children and their friends shine—whether it's a child singing a solo (Niji) or one working hard as a part leader (Anata e).
This year's choral festival will be the last one, with my second son in his third year of junior high. While I sometimes think I'd like to join a choir myself, singing in the car on the way home from work has become my daily routine. Even in this solo karaoke, my tired feelings from the day are colored by the sound, and I feel energized. It feels like saying 'welcome back' to the child I was who loved music.