The Melody Whisperer

Leaning on the chain fence behind me, I begin to tune my guitar, shining in the hot bright sun above me. I take good care of it, Ethan's generous gift to me. I don't usually get a lot of gifts; I just try to enjoy what I have, which is all I need. My music.

Since I first walked by the orchestra, named The Rockies, in the plaza, located in the heart of our small town, music has been my world. I was about 5 then. The musicians wore clean black suits, all of them. They were much unlike my stained shirt and torn pants, that really needed to go to the laundromat and the tailors. They looked...professional. All of a sudden, as I gazed at the talented group, a million sounds exploded from the instruments. I could hear all sorts of glorious melodies flow into my ears that I'd never heard before. At that moment, I had found my passion - music.

The entire walk home, I found that there was music in every jingle of every door, every chatter of every passerby, and even every step I took on the old beige-colored pavement. There was even music in the stew my mom was making for dinner upon our old black stove.

I was so eager to tell my parents about my supernatural talent that night at dinner. I told them about the glorious melodies of the band, the songs that flowed from the mouths of those who spoke, the synchrony of the steps everybody tapped as they walked together, the clatter of the nearby restaurant's cooking and the sizzle of the stove; I told them everything. When I finished, they assumed I had a wild imagination and said nothing more. We all sat in silence after that, quietly drinking the tomato and bean stew.

Every day when I walked with my dad to go to places like the hot, cramped grocery store, the rusty laundromat, or even a big and fancy restaurant (once in a long while) with tables without tablecloths, I'd hear wonderful sounds everywhere. Every move was music to my ears, and I was always willing to explore more music.

By the time I turned 8, I decided to start playing music. However, I wasn't sure which instrument I was to play. They were all lovely, and I'd heard them often played wonderfully by The Rockies' performances in the plaza. Until one day when my dad and I went to another one of The Rockies' performances, I noticed they had brought a new friend along this time. He introduced himself as Ethan, a tall guy with curly brown hair and decked in black just like the other bandmates. When he sat at his chair in the far left corner, he took out an instrument unfamiliar to me. His instrument was the one that started the song. It played so beautifully, and - I've never said this before - much better than the others. I had to get a closer look.

"..Hey Dad, can I get closer to the band? I want to see one of their new instruments."

He disagreed with me, saying, "You could get trampled over by excited fans. You never know what may happen at a concert!"

...Of course he thought that. My parents were typical worriers, as I was their only child. It was a gift that I could even go to this performance. A storm of thoughts swirled furiously inside my head. It's not even a concert, just a band playing casually in the square! Why can't I just go a little more up front? (Do you really think we could afford to go to a concert?) Sure, everyone got excited at the beginning entrance, but eventually they just clapped along and sang with the music. I trusted my community. Overcome by a rush of determination, I thought I could make a run for it and try to catch the guitarist once the band was over, but my dad, knowing me, grabbed my hand and started the long walk towards home. I sulked all the way. I thought I would never get to see that unique instrument ever again. It felt like a piece of my soul had been left at the stage.

It was a couple of weeks later on a Sunday when it happened. I was told to go get the groceries by myself, for my dad was sick. I was walking by the plaza, and, on the edge of the sidewalk on the creaky brown bench, sat Ethan, the musician from The Rockies with the mysterious instrument. He was playing it to the passerby as they dropped coins in his hat, turned upwards. It sounded like an amazing idea. Imagine how much money I could earn for our family! My heart stopped for a second as I almost lost myself with the amount of relief that swirled towards me.

I could talk to him. Ask him about the instrument. Find that piece of soul back in me.

I came back to myself and mustered up courage. I wasn't a super sociable person, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was now or never.

I walked towards him, trying to look completely calm. I then stood right besides him. I took a deep breath.

"Hello! What kind of instrument is that?" I asked nervously, pointing at it.

He simply replied, "It's a guitar."

So that was the instrument's name. Guitar. I repeated it a couple of times in my mind before he spoke again.

"You want to try playing it?"

I almost squealed with excitement, looking at the brown guitar, as I managed to squeak a "yes" out of me. I then sat on the bench, creaking beneath me, and he showed me how to tune the guitar, certain parts of the guitar, the tone knob. I'd never felt more happy in my life. I was learning about this instrument, the instrument that felt right for me.

Ethan and I met every other day to practice the guitar. One day Ethan had not only brought his guitar, but also a giant box too. He told me it was a gift for me. I made a fuss over the reason why, but he told me that it was because he didn't know anybody else who had similar interests in guitar. "You're a special friend," he told me.

I beamed and opened the gift. It was a giant black colored guitar shaped bag, made with leather, and about the same height as Ethan's guitar. I noticed a zipper on the side of the bag, and pulled the bag open. It revealed a new, shiny white guitar. I picked it up gently and held it in my arms, and began to tune it softly. "Thank you, Ethan," I managed to say.

So yeah, that's my music story. I now have my own guitar and play it by the sidewalk every day, earning a little for my family. I look up to see Ethan, and smile.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

"Yep!" I smile. I stand up and put my guitar away gently, zipping it up into the black leather guitar case. We walk over towards the plaza and into the backstage. I meet my fellow bandmates, and take out my guitar to tune it before our performance. Everybody else does the same until it's time to play. We walk out onto the stage in front of the plaza, standing in front of the entire town. I briefly look over towards where my dad and I used to watch the performances. Now my mom and dad stand there together. I smile as they wave towards me. The colorful stage lights turn on as we walk down the stage towards our places. We settle our instruments as our singer, Melissa, starts to speak.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen, to another night of a musical performance brought to you by... Southwest Runway!"

I smile as I begin the song, strumming along the guitar strings.