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.

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