𝒖𝒏𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 • 𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙩 • ✓

{25th of August - e.c}

it's the day before orchestra night.

as musicians of all kinds rushed in and out of the auditorium for rehearsals with hands lugging their instruments, brett, ray and i practised non-stop for countless hours for weeks and weeks. it was tiring, as sometimes it goes late into the night, but it wasn't all bad as we would accompany each other to each other's houses and say goodbye at their doorstep.

today we had to wear our concert attire in as well.

i struggled to adjust the sleeves of the ebony swallow-tailed coat that was held back by the ivory white-laced shirt that hid beneath. after a long time, i could finally tuck the white sleeves in so the black ones do not get caught up by them. i turned to glance at my reflection of the dressing room mirror. through the glass, i could see myself, but also someone else.

my father gave me a serene smile, the one that's most recognizable to me. i smiled back at him and extended a hand to touch his face on the mirror. beside him, on his grip, was his beloved violin, one he held as a treasure to for years and helped him accomplish outstanding things in his lifetime. i picked up my violin from the dressing table and looked up at him again. he beamed and lifted his violin, whilst i did the same.

a vision appears in my mind as the dulcet, mellow tones of the violin echoes through my mind. it takes me back to a house, a bedroom, a figure and a storybook.

"dad, i can't sleep. read me another story please. just one more for tonight, then i'll be out like a light in seconds!"

"alright, eddy," a warm hand ruffles my hair, innocent laughter of a child spreading throughout the room. "but just one more, i want to share with you something that holds dear to me."

"what is it, dad?"

"you'll hear it later."

even after the story, i was wide awake, excited to see what my dad had in store for me. after he finished, he placed the storybook down on his lap and pulled out a wooden object. it looked like a nut with a stick that comes out from the top. he took it and placed it in front of me, beaming. i was puzzled.

"what is this thingamajig dad?"

"this 'thingamajig' is a violin. it is an instrument - that means it can make music once you play it in the right way. watch, eddy."

he pulled out another stick, brandished it around like a sword and landed it on the strings that were tied from one end of the 'violin' to the other end, below a wooden thing that wedged itself in between. he pulled the stick downwards on the string and out of nowhere a beautiful sound came out of it. i was mesmerized and awed and clapped for him to continue. he proceeded to play every note on the violin, the smile not leaving his face. when he ended it, i begged for more.

"alright, i'll present you this song that was played to me almost every night in my childhood by my grandmother. this was what i wanted you to listen to. hear it carefully. let the melody sink into your memory and replay it there every so often, so that it reminds you of me whenever i go to work and you feel lonely by yourself. play it so that i live within you as if i'm by your side. play it so that music connects the two of us, no matter how far apart we are."

i was young that time and didn't understand his words until the next day, so i just nodded obediently. his tone came off as a little serious yet sad to me, but i didn't bother to ask him why.