Morning Violin
There was a pleasant light wandering through the window of the study. It was the sort of colored light that came as the sun set or rose. On this particular occasion the sun was preparing to make its climb into the sky, and so a more, cheery morning light found its way into the room as the day was about to begin.
The desk faced away from the window and was littered with all sorts of papers of an important business-like nature. All of these papers seemed to ignore the filing cabinets near the edge of the desk. Instead they determined to remain underneath the personal study bible that lay open on top of them. Next to the bible was a closed laptop and on top of the laptop was a phone that had been turned off for this brief moment of time.
The walls and corners of the little study were completely obscured by enormous bookcases. These bookcases were filled with literature of all sorts, from classics to theology to outdated business textbooks. There was, on some of the lower shelves, a small smattering of children’s books of differing levels. And on the shelves just below eye level there were a number of romance authors.
There were two lights in the room, neither of which were on. The reading light on the desk and the one attached to the ceiling fan; which of course had its switch on the wall next to the door. As I have said: both of these lights were off, so the only light in the room came from the window.
Now that I have given you the general condition of the room, allow me to tell you of its occupant: In the absolute center of the room stood a man in his early thirties. Although he was of average height he was very long-limbed and so seemed to tower in the room. This fact was especially accentuated by the pinstriped pajamas he was wearing. His hair had a reddish hue, brought out even more in the morning light. In his left hand he held a violin and in the right he held a bow.
There were calluses on his fingertips that came from years of practice on the strings of the instrument.
Photo by Méline Waxx
Presently the man stood with his head bowed and his lips moving slightly. Then he looked up at the ceiling muttering an “amen.” Then placing the bow skillfully on the strings he began to draw it back, pressing on the strings as he did. Then, when he was about to draw the tip of the bow over the strings, he pushed it back and brought new notes to life in the room. He turned to the precise angle so the sunlight struck the violin’s glossy coating and shimmered about the room making the walls dance with the beams.
He began to sway with the music as he recalled the intricate melody. His fingers moved through the movements on the strings, and he felt the song stirring like the morning. The piece started out soft and slow, as if the music itself wasn’t entirely awake, but fairly quickly it began to assert itself. Before long the man was swinging through the motions of the song, almost dancing through the room, every now and then the violin catching the sun in explosions of light.
Then, just before the song was quieting, there was a burst of inspiration in his mind. Suddenly the music picked back up with a new life, and the man began creating what he felt there in the morning. His new song was moving, and told of things that cannot be said with words: feelings of pain and loss, and then of redemption and thankfulness with strong undertones of love. The man and the violin, worked harmoniously together, as they hailed the new day that had been given.
Then suddenly the man stopped and he turned, as he saw his youngest son standing in the doorway to the study, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Good morning daddy.” He said with a smile
The man’s face beamed and he set the violin and bow down, “Good morning, does your mother have breakfast ready?” The little boy shrugged, and the man went over and picked him up, “Well let’s go see.” As he carried the boy out, he gave the room one more glance, before leaving to take hold of the day.
I wrote "Morning Violin" largely due to my own lack of any musical skill. I love music, and being able to write about it I find is the next best thing. Also, being a follower of Christ, I appreciate the opportunity to point in his direction with my writing.
Thanks for reading and enjoy your day!