(Topic: Grief, stories, pregnancy, music)
Hi Friends,
Recently I was looking for ways to mother Charlie (I’m feeling the need, since Charlie’s birthday is coming up next week on the 19th), and my therapist helped me brainstorm several things – and one of them that caught my fancy was to try writing again. But not writing to Charlie (which I don’t like the feel of), or directly about him – instead, I would try writing stories like I would have told to him. And since children like stories about themselves, here is the first story I wrote for Charlie:
And Charlie Danced
Once upon a time there was a little boy named Charlie. When he was very little, and was still in Mommy’s tummy, Mommy and Daddy went to a concert.
It was a special concert, with a very famous violinist playing. His name was Joshua Bell, and he played the violin so well that people came from all over to hear him play.
This concert had an orchestra, and Joshua Bell was going to play the violin solos. Mommy was very excited because she liked the big tympani drums and the way she could feel them inside her bones. Daddy liked all the different pieces that they were going to play. Charlie didn’t know what he would like, because he hadn’t been to a concert before!
When the music started, Charlie waited. He heard the whole orchestra playing. He heard the tympani drums and felt them in his bones. He heard the cellos and the basses playing. He heard high notes and low notes, fast notes and slow notes.
Charlie liked all the instruments, but he still waited to see if there was one he liked best.
Then Joshua Bell stepped forward and began to play, and the orchestra hushed. Beautiful notes sailed through the air and sang to Charlie, and Charlie began to dance. He turned and leapt, and danced with the beautiful singing notes, who trailed gold and red and orange all around him. Joshua Bell danced with his violin, and Charlie danced with the singing notes until the last one faded away.
Charlie had found the music he loved. Charlie loved violin music, all alone and by itself, clear and golden like honey, in so many glistening shades and scales.
Yours,
Sarah
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