Practice Makes Perfect

November 14, 2011
By siona BRONZE, Nashville, Tennessee
siona BRONZE, Nashville, Tennessee
3 articles 0 photos 4 comments

A little girl with brown, curly hair like vines and tan skin sat on the hardwood floor of the room, violin in hand, and began to cry. Her breathing was rough and shaky as tears streak her chubby cheeks.

“I just can’t do it, Stephanie!” the girl cried in anguish. She beat her hands against the floor, but stopped her tantrum for a moment to make sure the naughty violin, which caused this trouble, was okay.

“Of course you can, Siona! You can do anything. Haven’t I always told you that practice makes perfect?” A pretty lady with nice skin and dark hair named Stephanie patiently told the girl on the floor.

“I know! It’s just so hard!” Once more, the little girl let out a sob.

“It won’t be so hard if you keep practicing.” The woman kneeled next to the little girl. The little girl stopped crying, her tears were reduced to little snuffles. “You can do anything if you set your mind to it. Here,” The woman stood up and swung the girl up. The girl couldn’t help it, she let out a giggle. The lady picked up the offending instrument and put it into the little girls arms, eagerly reaching for it, the frustration forgotten.

“Now,” Stephanie smiled, “Let’s see what you can do.”

Years later on a fluffy, white carpet, the girl is taller and older and she is sitting down. This time, though, her cheeks are less chubby and not streaked with tears. Rather, they are scrunched up, caught in a smile. The older girl is holding a violin, not the same one, but it is a violin nonetheless. It seems as if she is deep in thought, lost in the years past.

“Siona! I don’t hear you playing!” a woman’s slightly stern voice echoed from downstairs.

The girl opened the door to her room and looked down from the balcony at her mom. Her mom has pale-ish skin, green eyes, and a crazy mass of red hair. People say the mother and daughter look alike. The girl liked that thought.

“Sorry, mom. I was just thinking...” The girl leaned over the balcony, imagining what it would be like to fall off. The girl gulped and leaned back to a safer position. “Can I play for you the new piece that I’m working on?”

“I don’t know can you?” There was a hint of laughter in her mom’s voice.

“Fine—May I play for you the new piece that I’m working on?” the girl half snapped, half smiled.

“Of course you can, Siona!” her mom laughed.

As the girl walked back into her room, she brought out her violin, bow, and music to the balcony. She carefully lifted the violin to her chin and began to play. Her bow-strokes were smooth and measured, made from lots of years of practice, her fingers touching the strings at the tips. Oh no! She made a mistake! But the girl carried on, noting that her mother had no idea of the incident. At that moment, Siona felt she could do anything with a bit of time and practice. Happiness bubbled through her, and she grinned like a jack-o-lantern. Yes, she even felt that with a bit of time and practice, she could fly.

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