Missing my flute

It was a beautiful day today. The perfect weather: sun shining, but not so much that you want to stay in the house, out of the sun, doing nothing; no unexpected rain, or other sudden changes; and –especially– it's not the time of the year yet when most plants and flowers are in bloom, so I didn't spend all day sneezing either.

This kind of weather is the perfect weather to sit on our terrace, by the pond, and play some music. Unfortunately, since both my flutes have been stolen, the only instrument I could use to do this was the bass flute. I tried playing Debussy's Syrinx, but it didn't sound good on that instrument (to put it mildly), and I had to redo parts all the time because I couldn't get it right. After some minutes, I suddenly realized I was playing the piece one octave too high, and that the flute was already weighing on my arms.

Discouraged, I put it away again. I would've loved to play some more, but I knew at that point that playing this instrument wouldn't satisfy my desires.

This is the first time since the instruments were stolen that I'm really missing them. I didn't miss the first (and objectively most valuable) instrument when it was stolen, because I still had the second (and oldest, and emotionally more valuable) one at that point. I didn't miss the second instrument when it was stolen, because I could still play the bass flute when I wanted to, and indeed do so each week at the rehearsal. Of course I felt a loss, but didn't actually miss them yet. I do now.