Never Forget

September 26, 2009
By RachelGone SILVER, Vernon Hills, Illinois
RachelGone SILVER, Vernon Hills, Illinois
5 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, it is measured by the moments that take your breath away."

She placed her hand on the knob of the wooden door. The door which her mother had opened so many times before. She turned the knob and pushed the door wide and gasped at the long lost sight which she had not seen in several years. There stood the once beautiful black grand piano. Dust now hugged every inch of its dark body.
She walked slowly inside and sat on the piano bench. Dust flew in different directions as she shifted. She hesitantly placed her fingers on the yellowed keys and closed her eyes. Her mother had touched those keys and played breathtaking notes on them.
She opened her eyes and saw the last piece her mother had ever played. The title seemed almost fitting. She found the first notes to the song and pressed down. "Still in tune," she murmured. She repeated the notes and continued. The notes flowed together like water, clear and gentle. Nothing broke her concentration as she carefully wound the notes around each other. A song, written by one's heart, swirled around the room and freed itself out the still opened door. Her father heard the song in his office and immediately stopped his work. He gradually rose from his chair and strode over to the once abandoned room. A young lady, one who resembled his wife, sat on a her bench and played her piano. The song was the last concert piece his wife had ever laid her hands on. He stood with his hand on the door knob and continued to peer inside. His heart was overwhelmed and tears slowly crept up until they found themselves streaming down his face.
The young lady glided her fingers over the keys, unaware of her father standing so near. She began to slow down as the song was close to its finale. She took a small breath and hit the very last key to the movement. She rose from the bench, took a look at the piece and read out the name. "If I Could See You Again".
She turned around and saw her father with tears still rolling down his face, memories returning.
Their eyes met and they understood what was to be done. The music could not be hidden forever as a sign of mourning. It had to be heard as a sign of remembrance. Her mother's music would still live on.

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