Jersey the lone percussionist banged away on the tensed surface of the drum barrels, crashing a cymbal at occasions when the beat required. Her band mates were gone now, moved to other neighborhoods, going to other schools, making new friends. They'd known each other since nursery school - that early, and so it wasn't hard to understand how their musical sense had become so intertwined with each other's sensibilities. Now, separated from Jersey, the tones were without their familiar heartbeat, and the heartbeat began to wither for loneliness. Jersey sat at the drums and recalled the music of her friends as she beat out the accompaniment, music for the spirit, that only she could hear.
Story #280
8 comments:
That story has a lot of heart -- feeling.
What kind of idiot gives a drumset to a child that age? Can't trust them to keep quiet without drumsticks. Why do you think her bandmates' parents moved the hell away?
She's just too cute. The music only she can hear is probably just noise to our unsophisticated ears.
Krystee makes more money in a day that you make in a year pounding the skins in this week's pop band. Envy her, she'll be potty-trained by the time they get their second album out.
Love the picture!
Take Care
Michael
Sorry for being so late in answering all your comments. It's still kind of hectic this week, but I wanted to post anyway, because I've left you all alone long enough.
Tom&Icy: I think dogs have the most feeling of any animal. Honest feeling.
Doug: I know what you mean. We always bought quiet toys for our kid.
Ariel: Hey! I'm not even a drummer.
Jamie: I think you're all sophisticated. Otherwise you wouldn't read my blog ;-)
Mushroom: Wow! She can retire before reaching grammar school!
Michael: There were some more photos of her older brother possibly on the drum set, so it must have been his.
This is one of my favourite stories of yours. Very touching.
Elveshat: Gee, thanks.
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