Thursday, May 16, 2013

Song of the Spirit

The following story was originally done through a writing activity called "jumble story" that provided a list of characters, a setting of place and time, and a problem. 
These are the elements chosen for my story:
  • jazz musician
  • a city park
  • new school year
  • something embarrasing has happened
For those of you like Kerri who believe I only write sad (or shocking) stories, you should enjoy this more "uplifting" song of the spirit and what we all have within us that unites us.


“Song of the Spirit”

            There’s nothing like that crisp crunch of fall leavers under foot in Central Park.  It’s the only place in the city where there is really a sense of oneness with nature.  The squirrels race from tree to tree, running along the benches, trying to secure acorns to bury for the long winter ahead.  The children have all headed back to their routines, traveling through the park on the way to and from school, backpacks armed with new pencils, pens, folders, notebooks, ready to take notes, and acquire that all important wisdom their teachers wish to impart.

            The people pass me daily.  I have made it my primary job to “watch” or “observe” the world around me. I think it’s important to come to know others and their actions…it helps us to know ourselves even better.

            The old, the middle aged, the young.  One can see their troubles, their hopes, their dreams if we take the time from our own days just to watch and listen.  I do so in between my sets when I am not entertaining with the saxophone.

            People enjoy watching the show, hearing the music I play in the park.  They clap politely or sometimes erupt with loud applause and cheering if they are especially moved through the melody.  Music is the greatest equalizer.  It brings people of all nations, cultures, and ages together, encouraging them to feel a sense of solidarity.  The loneliness and isolation disappears as they listen as one. 

Many of us feel like we are alone in this world, based on so many reasons, be it the loss of family members, a job, or a lack of the basics necessities of like.  When music is heard, those thoughts disappear into the mist, if even for only the briefest of moments.  I am grateful I can help do that for people with my music.  Even if I have brightened the day of just one person and made him or her forget about the worries of life, I have done my job.  And even if I don’t reach everyone, whether too distracted or busy, I know I will reach someone else tomorrow I didn’t today. 

            One particular afternoon in early October, I noticed a woman on the edge of the park; sadness was etched firmly into the lines of her young face.  Long chestnut brown hair was tied loosely at the nape of her neck.  The first hints of fall were in the air, so a paisley scarf enclosed her slender neck. 

She walked along behind a young man who strode at least 10 paces ahead of her.  Anger flushed his face, and he refused to look back at her as she called to him.  Instead, he kept on with a quick gate, his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of a suede jacket. 

The young woman kept pleading with him, “James, Please.  Just listen to me.  It isn’t what you think.  Please, stop.  Please.” 

He wouldn’t stop, though; he wouldn’t listen.  She ran up to him, tears rolling down her cheeks.  She pulled on the soft suede of his jacket, hoping to get him to acknowledge her.  This only angered him more. 

            Suddenly he turned on her.  She stumbled from the sudden movement and hit the ground, a sob escaping her lips.  Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away.  Her eyes, a cornflower blue, glistened as she stared up at James.  The young man, however, was unfazed by her fall.  He stood over her and raised his voice, his arms lifted in consternation.

            “I will never get over or forgive you for what you have done, Melissa.  Why can’t you just understand this?  You have lied to me and to our entire family.  And now you are lying to yourself.”  He turned away from her, arms now folded across his chest.  He wiped away a tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye. 

            Melissa pleaded with him again, not bothering to pull herself up to stand.  “James, I have never lied.  You must believe me.  I love you and our family.  I would never betray that!”

            James turned further into the wind, ignoring her pleas once more.  In the cold stare of his eyes, I saw he would never get over the obvious betrayal he felt.  The love was gone.  I wondered what she could have done to cause such heartbreak.  Was it an affair, the likely suspect in our time?  Or was it really just a misunderstanding?  From watching her face as James spoke, I knew there was so much more to the story.  There was something he didn’t know.  I could feel her anguish, and my heart reached for her.  There was such suffering in both of their eyes.  I hoped with the sincerest of hopes that he would hear her out and let her explain. 

            Melissa sat on the pavement, her head in her hands while James went on.  Passerby in the park gawked, not really knowing what to do, and thankful they weren’t in her position.  Knowing her pain and how it feels to be misunderstood, I went to the young woman, hoping to provide some type of respite from her anguish.

            I took a small box of tissues from my breast pocket and approached the woman, extending a tissue it to her. 

“Miss, I would like to help if I can.”

She looked up to me, such relief on her face.  I saw her notice my dingy apparel and unshaven face, and I am sure she had jumped to the conclusion of my circumstance.  Melissa took the proffered tissue and dabbed her tears.  She clutched her knees and hugged them closely to her chest. 

“Thank you so much.  He just won’t listen.  It isn’t at all what he assumes.  I think I am going to lose him.”  Finally she stood and straightened her clothes, embarrassed about what had just happened.  A blush rose on her cheeks as she noticed the crowd that finally had begun to disperse during the spectacle. 

“That might happen, but believe that things will work out.  There is a plan.  Things will go how they should.  We can only do so much, but have faith in yourself and your relationship.  Know you can weather any storm.  I know that sounds very cliché, but it has fibers of truth.  I am proof of that!”

Her crying eased as she took long, deep breaths, listening as I continued. 

“I have been in your shoes, you know.  I can tell you that life isn’t always easy. Look at me.  Life is tough out here, but I work to make the best of it, no matter what is thrown my way.  I have my music and all of this.”  I motioned to the scenery around us, pointing to the trees turning the color of fall.

I continued.  “There are going to be times that those closest to us hurt us the most, but you have to remain positive.  It is the only way to get through those hard times.” 

Because I could see myself so clearly in her, I knew in my heart of hearts that all she needed was some comfort from another human, one who saw and felt her pain and understood.  She had felt alone and that no one took the time to understand until now.  

“Thank you so much for your words of kindness.  I appreciate them more than you will ever know.”  She gazed at me through teary eyes and gave a small smile. 

I took her hand and led her to my bench. “I have a gift for you, and I think it will help you to feel better.”

I sensed her apprehension, but she followed me and sat.  I picked up the saxophone, gave her a grin, and began to play for her, for her pain and her fear of what was to come.  It was her own little concert, a song of heartbreak, but also a song of hope for tomorrow.

 

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