away from him more and more every day, almost like water running through his fingers. Do you know why? Because Buster was a vagabond. Before the seasons passed as if nothing had happened, and the truth was that his routine was reduced to waking up with the first ray of sunlight, looking for something to fill his stomach and waiting for the night to fall again. When he ran out of money, he had to go out again to beg for alms. Sometimes, in the middle of the silence, he remembered that there was a time when he had a home, a job and a family waiting for him at home. But those thoughts only filled him with bitterness, so he preferred not to dwell on the past. The city had its own rhythm, indifferent to his failures.
He doesn't like to remember it anymore but in those beautiful years he was truly happy and a successful man. You see in his past he was a famous saxophonist in his home state and made a lot of money. He had a big house in which he and his whole family lived. Although the truth is that they were almost never at home. They were almost always on tour playing in various states of the country. He and his wife had 1 son, his name was Frank. Together the 3 of them had toured many parts of the country. The truth is that they enjoyed it very much. But something terrible changed everything.
One day when they were going at night to a fair where Buster was going to play, the unimaginable happened. That night it was raining and the road was very wet and slippery. They were going very fast because due to the bad weather they had been delayed to get to the fair and they didn't want to keep their fans waiting. Well, in one of the curves of the road the tires of the car slipped and fell down a gorge. The car was smashed to pieces.
Several days later Buster awoke in the hospital. As soon as he opened his eyes he remembered what had happened. So his first words to the doctors were to ask about his family. They didn't know how to tell him, but in the end they had to. They informed him that he had been the only survivor of the accident. Sadly his wife and son had died instantly. He was simply speechless, he didn't know what to say to them. His heart was terribly bitter and in his mind he blamed himself for what had happened.
A few weeks later when he was discharged and returned home he was no longer the same. He now had a great depression that prevented him from doing anything. He had no desire to live or fight. He just spent his days lying in bed. As you can imagine, the debts and arrears of the house began to accumulate, since he no longer worked and did nothing to get ahead, he ran out of money. The bank at first understood his situation, that's why they gave him several months of extended payments. But there came a time when they could no longer do anything for him. So they had to evict him.
Once on the street, he simply didn't have any worries. For he no longer had the will to live. That is when we come to the present. He begged for alms to survive. He had a technique, he would stand at the very corner, right where the traffic lights forced the cars to stop for a few seconds. He never said anything, never even tried to smile. He would just silently hold out his hand, waiting for a coin to fall. People often ignored him as if he were part of the scenery, and that was fine with him. He had accepted his invisibility, or so he thought.
But you know not everything was as dark as he imagined, because recently something changed in him. One day when he was going to the corner of the traffic light to ask for some alms, he passed by a block where a small music fair was taking place. Almost all the musicians were street musicians, gathered there to play together and earn a few coins. Among them were several saxophonists. The truth is that the sound of those instruments called him. He didn't want to go because he knew that if he did, all the memories would come to his mind. But the temptation to listen closely to the saxophone music overcame him and he finally gave in and went over to look. When he approached the man playing the saxophone he simply sat on the floor and sat through the entire performance until it was over. They actually gave him some handouts.
The next day when he woke up the first thing he did was to go back to look for the saxophonist. He didn't know why, but he needed to hear him again. Every day he saw him play, he felt a little better, the truth is that the music was somehow managing to penetrate the layers of apathy he had built around himself. Just before the end of that fair he gathered his courage and approached the saxophonist as he finished one of his songs. How did you learn to play, he asked, unsure, with the husky voice of someone who is no longer used to speaking. The man looked at him, surprised, but not judgmental. He smiled and said, “I just started. One day I picked up a saxophone and didn't let go.” The two of them laughed and sat and talked for a while. He confessed to her everything that had happened to him.
That day something inside him changed. It had been many years since his family's tragic events, so the conversation with the saxophonist changed his mind and also made him realize that it was time to make a change. From then on, he began to save every coin he received. True, the nights were still cold and the mornings harder, but he endured, looking forward to the day when he would have his own saxophone. Every night, on the park bench where he slept, he began to imagine himself playing in front of an audience again. He also remembered the security he once had, his former life, but now those memories were not a burden, they were the push that kept him going as his wounds had healed.
When he finally found a saxophone in a second hand market that he could afford he was very happy. True, it was old, with scratched and dull metal, but it was his. He haggled over the price until he was left with nothing but the exact coins, and that night, he curled up in the park with the instrument in his arms, as if it were a treasure.
Now that he had this instrument he decided that he would get ahead as a street musician again and finally stop begging for handouts. The first few days people looked at him with pity but somewhat amazed because they had never seen him play the saxophone in the area where he always was. Meanwhile, the nights were a constant struggle between hunger, cold and his memories. On more than one occasion he thought of giving up, of putting the saxophone aside and returning to his life of invisibility in the corner, but every time he hesitated, he closed his eyes and remembered his family and what they would say if they saw him in that situation.
One day he noticed that more and more people started to stop and listen to him. At first, it was only for a few seconds, but then some would stay until he finished a song. The coins in his can were more frequent, and a little boy approached him to tell him that he liked the music he played. You know that day Buster felt alive because he knew he was on the right track. That's when the saxophonist, whose name was Alberto, by the way, with whom he had had the conversation, showed up one afternoon and listened to him play without saying anything. When he finished, he patted him on the shoulder and left him several hundred dollars in the can and said “I am very happy that you are making this decision and that you have left that life, I wish you the best and the greatest success.
Shortly before leaving he offered her a card. “I have a little jazz club,” he said. “I'd like you to play one night.” Buster took the card as if it were the key to a door that had always been locked for him and said yes. Although he was worried about several things, like not having clothes to go to the event or not having the right haircut. Alberto told him not to worry, at the club we are going to give you new hair and a barber will come. Then Buster was happy and said he would go.
Well, the night arrived at the club. Alberto and the barber were waiting for him when he entered. They gave him new clothes, gave him a haircut and he took a shower. When he came out of the bathroom he looked like a different person, Alberto was surprised. He told him, “Buster, my friend, don't worry, I will help you in any way I can. So be confident and rest assured that from now on you will do well. I hope you enjoy the night at the club. When it was time to play and he took the stage everyone looked at him intently. With the light shining directly on him he began to play. At first it is true the notes were unsure but little by little, the music filled the room and the talent that had been subdued for years finally ignited.
The truth is that he played as if he was telling his own story, every climb and every fall, every moment when he almost gave up. And, when he opened his eyes, he saw something he didn't expect everyone applauding. That night he won a lot of money, enough to start over again. Now she had the chance to rebuild her life, to be happy again and make up for lost time. Alberto shook his hand and said, “Buster, you are welcome anytime at the club, you have a way to start over. Then Buster replied, “Yes, my friend, I promise I will fight to get my life back.
