Short Stories

One Uke for Me and You

I look at all the choices of ukuleles. She loves ukes and I love seeing her play. She's talented you know.

I choose a dark red one, a mauve colored one. It's unique and definitely her style.

I pay and carry the ukulele with me. I drive to her house and knock on the door.

Her energetic and loving mother opens the door and greets me.

"She's in her room." She says, closing the door behind me.

I thank her and head off to her room.

Her mother stops me. "Thank you. Thank you for being there for her. Thank you for loving my daughter."

I smile and accept her hug. I hug her back. "Thank you for allowing me to."

She smiles. "Go on now."

I continue my walk to her room. I knock, and open the door. She's sitting on the bed, and her head turns toward the sound of my footsteps.

"Hello, Mr. Late." She says with a smile.

I look at her clock. Oh, I am late.

"At least I'm just late by two minutes. Last time it was ten." I say, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She laughs. "Okay. Whatever you say."

I brush her hair and say, "I have something for you."

Her back straightens. "Really?"

I place the box in her hands, help her remove the ribbon and cover, and I watch as she takes the ukulele in her hands. Her hands carefully take in every inch of the uke.

Her hands stop at the dots engraved.

I will always be with you
near or far
always play
from your heart.

"You got them to engrave this in braille?" She asks, surprise obvious in her voice.

I hug her and play with her hair. "Yes."

She strums and I listen to her play.

"I wish I could see your face clearly. I can see the dark red of the ukulele but not you. I'm also glad you bought one." She says, now searching for my face. She holds my face in her soft hands.

"Why?" I ask her, clearly confused.

She smiles. "Because even if I'm blind, you're there, here. And my heart can feel you too. The songs I'll play, the songs we'll write. The songs we'll sing deep into the night. This one uke isn't just for me to use. This ukulele is for me and you."

Her mom comes in but we don't mind. I'm here and she's mine.