Fantasy and feelings...

Swan song

I once cared for a kindly old lady in the past, not too long ago. She used to be an opera singer who stole shows and pulled the heartstrings of her people.

I had never heard a single note escape her lips ever since I joined her service. I wonder, does she not miss the stage?

"Ah child, my voice has failed with age. I had sung my swan song long ago..."

"What's a swan song?"

"Why, it's the final piece of work of an artist.  Their magnum opus, their best for last. They never go back to their art once they have sung their swan song... they can't. They have given their all and now they have nothing in them..."

My heart ached as she finished her story. Is this why many artists die after their last work? Because they've given their all and now...only a mere shell remained...

As time went on, I became more and more curious about her singing. I would always beg her to sing for me, even if it was just her warmup vocals.

But she would smile, ruffle my hair and say "How it makes me so happy that you wish to hear me sing, my dear sweet child but I cannot... my singing days are too far behind..."

Until one fateful day in the spring. I was in her gardens, picking roses. I had a little nosegay of them when I heard...

Vedro... con mio diletto...

My legs had never taken me anywhere that quickly as they did that day.

She was singing, a rich and beautiful alto... her voice echoed off the walls as they shaped the notes of the song...

Her voice, no longer raspy and soft...her posture, no longer bent but straight up, like the regality of the royals...

This was no old lady... She was a star of the theatre... she carried herself in such grace her dressing gown looked like an ornate ball gown of the opera.

As the last note faded into nothingness, like a tree felling, she went down...

As I put her into her bed and made her comfortable, I gave her the nosegay of white roses I had picked...

"Was I how you imagined me, child?"
"You were even better. I brought some flowers for the star.."

"Ah, they're lovely... what a sweet thing you are..."

She deteriorated quickly as the night went on... I never left her side.

"Child, remember when I told you about my swan song in the theatre?"

"I do. What about it?"

"I never thought I could sing again. My voice felt old and creaked like old doors. But when you earnestly begged me for a song everyday, it was as if it came back to me, for one final act, for the sweet child who's been so good to me... I think this was my true swan song... for you, my dear..."

She was gone by morning...it was true what she said about swan songs..

It was her magnum opus, her best for last...She had given it her all.. and now there was nothing left in her...

She left the world a true artist, one final performance, to her people...