It was the girl and the violin if you remember. It’s played out slow in my head, as if the fingers where moving in slow motion over the strings. So much strength that doesn’t want to come out, so many unplayed songs over this violin. We hold hands, as a stagnated marathon, with all the runners aligned from start to the end. We have reached our destination and still we’re not there. I find myself standing somewhere in the middle listening for that music.
It was young female hands, bitten down finger nails and broken strings. But she played so beautiful, I know she had it, even if just half of the notes came through, maybe even fewer than that, I don’t know for sure how it works with this music thing.
But I know that I once was a child and now I am not. I know that however old I’ll be I’ll never reach to the top shelf in the kitchen. My point is that we’re all born with a built in potential. We’re all born with an eagerness that wants to come out. And imagine, if all the people got their own designed greenhouse and got the chance to grow up under perfectly right weather conditions. If the gardener in heaven got to do what he considered the best.
It all sounds so different in my head than when it is spoken out. I know she feels the same. I can hear all those unplayed notes. Like all those words, inaccessibly but still out there.