Great-Grandpa's Violin - A Story for Children

Tara's Great Grandpa was a famous violinist, and everyone in the family played some musical instrument. Music floated about the house at all times of the day, and Tara adored her harmonious home and musical family.

On Monday and Thursday afternoons, she would hear Mama's long tapered fingers fly over the black and white keys of the study's piano as she showed her students the mastery of the scales. Papa would get in late after work and, he too would head for the study to strum the nylon chords of his favourite acoustic guitar. While Toby, Tara's brother would shut himself up in the garden shed and bang on his drums for hours on end. Tara could nevertheless hear the rhythmic pounding as he beat his drumsticks on the hard surface of his drum set.

The study was their music room. It wasn't one of those fabulously furnished ones with the latest hi-tech equipment. It had an old stand up piano and two guitars as well as an electric keyboard. The drum set was too cumbersome and loud to have in the study, so that went up in the garden shed. The only other classical instrument in the room was Great Grandpa's violin, and that was stowed away in a glass cabinet away from dust and light. It was precious, and no one was allowed to touch it, especially not Tara, who was known for her clumsiness. 

Tara loved her musical family and her melodious home. She felt blessed with the gaiety of the music that enveloped her. However, there was one significant problem. Tara was the only one in her family who couldn't play an instrument.

Mother had sat next to Tara in front of the keys and patiently showed her the notes and the scales. But as much as Tara wanted to learn, she just couldn't seem to remember how the notes followed one another. Papa had done the same with his guitar, but that had been even more puzzling. Tara hadn't been able to get any tune to come out of Papa's guitar. All she could do was tweak the strings and get the same sound again and again. So they had finally given up on Tara. Her mother had shrugged and smiled. "I guess, you're just not musical my dear. There's nothing wrong with that." But Tara knew deep inside that she was 'musical', she had to be! She was sure that the music was somewhere within her hiding in a secret place. 

On Tara's 8th birthday, they all gathered in the study to play some extra special music. The atmosphere was festive, and the music more enchanting than ever. Mama brought Tara's birthday cake into the study. She and Tara had worked on the icing decorations and had dotted the cake with musical notes made with coloured chocolate buttons. Even the candles were shaped like treble clefs. Tara adored everything about music, but as her family said, she was just not musical. They sang a happy birthday song with Mama drumming on the keys of the piano, and they all cheered and clapped as Tara blew out the candles.

"So what's your birthday wish this year?" asked Papa with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

Tara scrunched up her brow and stared at her family's smiling faces, and for the first time, she felt lonely. Here she was on her eighth birthday, with her loving family playing music to make her happy, but she suddenly felt she didn't belong.

Maybe, she thought, Maybe I'm not musical because I'm not part of the family at all. What if they adopted me and they're keeping it secret from me? Then everything would make sense. That's why I can't play the piano or the guitar. She gazed at the familiar faces again. They seemed frozen on the background of the study.

Her eyes rested on the piano, then on the guitar and wandered towards the glass cabinet. Great Grandpa's violin seemed to gleam from behind the glass beckoning to her. Tara got up and went to stand in front of the cabinet staring at the sensuous contours of the shiny wooden surface. The bow was made of ivory and silver and was poised against the instrument.

"I would like to hold Great Grandpa's violin in my arms," Tara said in a faint voice.

Mama and Papa exchanged glances, and Papa gave Mama a small nod.

Papa took the keys to the cabinet which he kept in a small mother of pearl box on top of the piano and opened the glass door.

"Your Great Grandpa was one of the best violinists of the Kungliga Operan, the Royal Swedish opera house," said Papa as he reached out to take the ancient instrument. He came over to Tara and sat her on his knee, and still holding the violin, he placed it in her arms.

"You don't remember, but Great Grandpa Elias used to sit you on his knee and play the violin when you were only one," said Papa, "unfortunately he died before you turned two and the violin has been there ever since, as a reminder of what a great musician he was."

Tara lightly stroked the contours with her fingers and touched the rough strings. She felt them vibrate as her fingers followed the strings along the neck. The instrument seemed alive and ready to burst forth with a sweet melody that no one in her family had ever played.

That night Tara lay awake for a long time, thinking of Great Grandpa Elias's violin, and as she closed her eyes music rang in her ears. Not the clanging notes of the piano or the harmonious strumming of the guitar, but the sweet and floating notes of a classical air, she had never heard before.

She finally fell asleep and dreamt she was walking through a large doorway and entering an enormous inner hall. She found herself at the foot of a wide marble staircase with golden railings and all around her was the plush decor of a theatre. Then suddenly she was standing on a stage flooded with spotlights, and she could hear the murmur of the audience, then the hush before the beginning of the concert.

Her stomach churned, and her heart beat faster. She turned sideways and next to her was a tall and imposing man with white hair and a warm smile. Immediately she knew this was her Great Grandpa Elias and she was in the Kungliga Operan. This was her big night, a night she would never forget. She was floating in this dreamlike atmosphere, through threads of music that drifted from the open dark oakwood doors — the musty odour of the wooden panelling and pungent aroma of the waxed floors tickled at her nostrils. Tara was in a musical dreamland.

Tara and Elias played the violin together there in the opera house. Tara played for the first time, but it was as if she had played for years and her bow danced on the strings of her violin like magic fingers. When Tara and Elias finally reached the end she heard thunder. A deafening clapping filled her ears and tears flooded her eyes. 

Tara woke up with a start. It was still dark outside but the moon was out, and Tara could clearly see the shed in the back of the garden. She sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes, and realised that she was part of the family. Very much so and she knew what she had to do now.

She threw the duvet off her bed and tiptoed to her door then slowly opened it. The house was silent as it rarely was. She crept along the landing and down the stairs then into the study. The moonlight was filtering through the windows, and she could clearly see the guitars and the piano in the corner. She went over to the piano and opened the mother of pearl box, fished out a key and went over to the glass cabinet.

The violin was shining behind the glass beckoning to her. She pushed a chair under the cabinet and climbed up on to it, turning the key in the lock of the cabinet door. Then gently, she reached out and took the violin and the bow. She sat down on the chair and fitted the violin under her chin as she had done in her dream, then ever so gently she pushed down the stings on the neck of the violin and touched the strings with the bow.

She started ever so slowly, gaining in precision. Soon, the sweet melody that had rung in her ears on the stage of the opera house, floated around the study then out into the hall and up the stairs. The gentle tune filled the house in those early hours of the morning like an enchanting stream of happiness. Tara had found her musical talent at last. Her Great Grandpa Elias would have been proud of his great-granddaughter Tara.