by: Rebecca Taylor, as told by the violin (short story version of this called A Musical Memory, previously published by Perspectives Magazine)
Under the brightness of the spotlight
My master holds me tight
Her expert hand is on my bow
As we serenade everyone at the show
Together we make music
In the audience is a family hoping to use it
To trigger something deep inside their mother.
Her name is Tori
And her children are very sorry
Because she has Alzheimer’s Disease
I can see her daughter Louise
There is hope in her eyes
Anticipation so deep that I can taste it
She doesn’t want anyone to know that she cries
But I can see everything from this stage.
My owner’s name is Karen
And if you haven’t guessed I am a violin
Handmade from spruce wood
Varnished to preserve me
Hands like silk caress me
And I shake with emotion
And my music flows out to the people watching.
Karen holds me beneath her chin
And I play a love song
A compilation of many from the past
Played with Karen’s touch on me
My voice reaches out to the people watching
And something changes in Tori’s eyes
The velvety melody is reminding her of a memory long lost inside
Later we know that it was of her husband’s sandalwood cologne
And her dancing with him many years ago.
Louise is smiling, sitting beside her mother
As Tori reaches out and takes her hand
Bringing her into this precious moment of recollection.
I can feel the beat of Karen’s heart change
She must have seen too
I can feel her pride, at achieving her goal
Together we are giving this family a glimmer of hope.