My Voice

March 15, 2017
By Archu8 BRONZE, West DesMoines, Iowa
Archu8 BRONZE, West DesMoines, Iowa
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Why do you play?
I play because the notes on this page are my words.


Why do you play?
I play because the music takes me to another world. A world where the skies are always blue. A world where the ocean water laps the edges of the sand underneath my feet. A world that is always warm. A world where I can walk. A world where I can talk. A world where I am perfect.


Why do you play?
I play because my hands allow it.


Why do you play?
I play because it calms me.


Why do you play?
I play because I forget who I am. I play because I forget what I can’t do. I play because I remember what I can do.


Why do you play?
I play because the music room is the only room where I am not judged.


“There will be no music room anymore,” he says.


The voices are coming from the hallway. They travel until they stop right at the door of the music room. I look up to see the principal and Mrs. Endecor deep in conversation.


“We must make budget cuts. It’s either a learning program or music,” the principal says, his voice hard.


“But the music room is all we have left, besides the theatre room,” Mrs. Endecor says, eyeing me with a look of pity.


“Would you rather we take away a learning program?” He asks Mrs. Endecor angrily.


“We have ten learning programs. Three of them have no students.” Mrs. Endecor levels her stare with him. She does not turn away like the others.


“It is final. We are cutting the money directed towards the music room. Mrs. Endecor, you are dismissed.”


“But Violet is a student of the music room,” she mutters under her breath. But, like the others, she turns to leave.


“No,” I want to scream. But, I have no voice. I cannot speak. I squirm in my seat and bang on my wheelchair, but there is no one left to hear. They are all gone.


I want to wail, but the sound will only strangle in my throat making ugly noises. Instead, I let the tears drop in silence as they roll down my cheek and splatter onto the ground. I cannot run. I cannot speak. I have no voice.


Why do you play?

I play because music gives me strength. Music gives me voice.


“I will tell them,” I say to myself. “I will tell them that I want the music room. I will tell them that music is just as important. I will tell them that music keeps me alive.”


My violin is sitting next to me on a stand. I pick it up with my trembling hands. I will show them.


I slowly wheel myself out of the room. My arms ache, but I will not give up. It takes me some time to get to the office but I make it. At my arrival, all heads turn to look at me. No doubt, I have walked upon an important discussion. My violin is still in my lap. I pick it up. My hands don’t tremble anymore. On the outside I am weak with no voice, but on the inside I am strong and know how to speak.


I close my eyes as the notes fall out, smooth like the winds on a beach. They are warm and light and make my fingers tingle. I lose myself to the music,and I start to become one with the notes.


I open my eyes to a single applause. Mrs. Endecor is clapping for me, her face filled with pride. Slowly more people join her, bewildered that a girl like me can play the violin. I find myself even more surprised to see the principal clapping for me. “I have never heard anything like it,” he tells me.


I have finally found my voice.


The thought makes me smile.

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