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Bedtime Sad Contemporary

Sunlight filtered in through the window. It scattered from wall to wall giving warmth to the cold, dusty air. I stood in the doorway, watching as the dust mites sparkled in the light and settled on my former belongings. My bed was situated right where it always had been. Pressed up against the far wall and wrapped in warm striped blankets and sheets. My desk was beside it, still carrying my piggy bank and white lamp. My posters were all hung up and the cloth ribbons draped around the ceiling. The window still shone on the far wall where, underneath it, glowing from the refracted sunlight, sat my piano. The wood was splintered and scratched but it welcomed me like a childhood friend. I walked over to the piano pressing into the soft carpet underfoot. The bench creaked as I sat down. I swept my hands over the aged wood. It rippled with my touch. Absorbing the warmth from my fingertips. I felt the grooves of my carved name on the right side. LIZZY. I traced each letter. The world was beginning to dissolve. I lifted the cover revealing the polished ivory. I placed my hands down gingerly. The keys felt soft. My muscles relaxed and without command or thought I began playing. The sweet melody began. My head began to swim. The peaceful comfort of the song set my mind dancing. The world completely dissolved. I was no longer at the piano. I was sitting on my bed watching my mother play. Her hands flowed through the air. The world gave no resistance to her playing. It welcomed it with open arms. My mom looked over at me and with sparkling eyes told me the same story she told me every night. The notes continued melting together as she spoke.

               “This song is special Lizzy. Do you know why it's special?” She asked me. I knew the answer, but I let her keep talking. I loved hearing the story every night. “When I was a little girl, I used to get bad dreams. I would wake up in the middle of the night and run to grandma. I would cry and cry until I crawled into bed with her and fell asleep. I kept having these dreams every night until one night grandma sat down at the piano next to my bed. She told me to listen to her song. She said it was a magical song. That as long as I heard it before going to sleep nothing could hurt me. She played the most beautiful song, she played it for me every night, and I never had another bad dream. Now I play it for you little Lizzy. So, I know that you’ll be safe just like I was.” I sat on my bed and listened believing with my whole heart every word my mom told me. I laid back and closed my eyes. The blend of notes fluttered through my thoughts like a soft breeze inside my head. I knew I was completely safe. The song eventually ended painting the room with a brilliant peaceful white. I opened my eyes one more time to see my mom leave the room saying, “I love you, Lizzy” and with nothing left to stop me, I drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The memory gently faded to the recessions of my mind. The present house formed around me again. My hands had stopped playing. Tears were rolling down my cheeks sparkling briefly before splashing on the keys. My mom would never play the song for me again. The thought was too painful to bear. A deep longing gaped in the pit of my stomach. I forced myself to play the song again but my hands resisted. The notes sounded awkward. The beautiful atmosphere my mom created was gone. The room felt cold. I begged my memory to take me away again but the notes I shot from the piano bore nothing more than sound. I wanted to scream. I threw my hands up to my face. The song stopped. The last notes rang out leaving nothing but silence behind. My body froze as I sat there. A pulsing frequency pounded my brain. My head felt as if it was falling into an infinite abyss. The world began to melt to black. Everything was disappearing. I sat there motionless losing track of time. The sun slowly fell taking its warmth and glow in the room as it went. The moon rose taking its place. Sending its ghostly haze to illuminate the room. I kept my eyes covered until I heard the steady rhythm of droplets cascading down the roof. I opened my eyes and out the window saw the pour of grey against the moonlight. The great roar of the rain pressed softly against my ears. The world began to reform. I wiped my eyes and placed my hands on the keys again. Comforted by the white noise of the rain I began to play. My hands moved without tension. The melody and bass collided and burst with energy whirling about the room. It fluttered to every corner and granted warmth to everything it touched. The piggy bank and lamp brightened. The light blue paint swirled and danced to the music. The bed sang with the tune it had heard so many times before. I continued playing and lifted my head to look out the window. I saw the energy from the song cut through the rain. Touching every raindrop, every leaf, every blade of grass until the outside began to sing to the melody of my mom’s song. The music drifted up into the atmosphere. Brightening the night sky. I stretched my neck to look up at the stars. Each seemed to twinkle with the rhythm. At last, the song reached the moon. Brightening its haze covering everything with a brilliant peaceful white. A light smile appeared on my face. The song truly was magical. I finished the song and sat in the atmosphere I had created. My mom might be gone but her magic is still with me. I got up from the piano and walked to the doorway and before stepping out I turned around and said one final thing. “I love you, Mom.”

November 10, 2021 18:08

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