It’s not that gold lacquer on the alto saxophone that entices me, but the reassuring, warm sound from its bell that brings me to the rainy days and late jazz nights at an old coffee shop I frequented with old friends after school. We would snag pastries and chat and joke while we did homework, all while the vibrations of a saxophone reverberated throughout the shop. Thus, opening the instrument case in my first band class in high school and snapping together the metal pieces felt like I was reconstructing that fond memory. Even though my school specialized in STEM, I saw music class as an hour-long escape from science to challenge myself to recreate that sound I missed hearing. I learned how to persist as I navigated through trails of intricate rhythms. On my daily commute, I listened to old jazz albums across different jazz movements and liked imagining the technical details of executing a certain string of notes. Each piece brought me comfort while carrying an infectious joy that screamed how great it was to be able to experience the vivacious rhythms. It was undeniable that I was infatuated with the saxophone’s sound and I wanted to understand why that was even more. I eventually joined my school’s jazz ensemble. Getting to play with people who had a similar appreciation for jazz and seeing how it mirrored my own interest at each made helped me realize why we were all so enthralled by it. At our concerts, we were not only playing dutifully as members of the jazz ensemble, but our minds were also free to escape with the melody. The overlapping timbres of instruments blend into blissful appreciation for living and immerse us in the closest feeling to harmony. That feeling is worth more than gold.