Time to time I get out a dusty violin case from underneath my bed, get the instrument that hasn’t seen light for months out, tune it, and start playing the melodies I used to play when I was a teenager. At first I struggle with it. It talks to me in a squeaky and unpleasing voice. Then my hands get warmer and my violin gets friendlier. We play some tranquil melodies together. I vibrate with my hand, my violin sings in reply. The soothing sounds of the strings seem to recreate the delicate shape of the instrument. I turn pages of the scores humming the melodies as if I need to remind my instrument how they are supposed to sound. It remembers. Sadly, soon the tips of my fingers begin to sore. I haven’t played in a while. And I won’t touch the strings for some time again. It knows. I put my lonely instrument back in the case where it hibernates for several quiet months until our next conversation. It is patient. It will wait for me.

Watch me play!