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He sat in a corner of the bar mourning his shattered dreams of changing the world…perhaps…with his music. His mind had been filled with glorious chords and melodies,his fingers frantically putting them down on paper, barely able to keep up with his thoughts. His every waking moment committed to his destiny…making beautiful music for the world to hear.
While other boys his age were at batting practice, he could be found, willingly, seated at the piano, mastering complex passages that had confounded his peers, day after day at the conservatory. His teachers were relentless in always prodding him to do better, for they recognized early on, his amazing potential. His ultimate goal...the worldwide Petrofsky piano competition…competing against the best applicants the world had to offer, and he wanted to be certain that when the time finally arrived, he would be prepared. He had graduated from the conservatory the year before and he was certain his time had come!
The morning of the competition, he awoke to the sound of thunder, like a drum roll in the distance...the wind howling furiously through the trees. The rat a tat tat of heavy rain, sounded like bullets against the windowpane. Hearing the insistent sound of barking, he tottered toward the kitchen, yawning as he went, annoyed with himself for staying up so late the night before to watch the game which had gone into extra innings.
Instead of being rested on his big day…he was yearning to retreat back to bed and catch up on much needed rest. But no…the dog needed letting out…and quickly…judging from the rising decibel with each bark!
As he opened the door to let him out, he noted that the wind had picked up, sending the patio chairs flying across the yard, onto the neighbor’s property. “Oh Hell,” he exclaimed, “I don’t have time for this this morning…I’ve got to be at the auditorium early to check the piano and the acoustics…I can’t be late!”
As he waited for the coffee to perk, he poured himself a large glass of orange juice, and taking a long gulp, was reaching for the newspaper, when he heard the dog scratching on the door to be let back in. As he opened the door, a large gust of wind blew the door back in his face as the dog, eager to escape the storm, ran between his legs sending him sprawling onto the wet floor, knocking the glass from his hand, shattering glass all over the floor. He felt a sharp pain in his right hand, and looking down at it, saw a river of blood spurting from his wrist and fingers.
Dazed, David pulled himself upright, nearly tripping again over the dog who was shaking himself trying to dry off. Suddenly, he felt himself starting to lose consciousness just as his neighbor came by, returning the chairs that had landed on his property. Sizing up the situation and seeing all the blood spurting from David’s hand, he quickly seized a towel lying on the kitchen counter and fashioned a tourniquet to try to stop the bleeding. Spying David’s cell phone on the table, he quickly dialed 911 for assistance.
...
David awkwardly raised the glass of beer to his lips with his left hand trying not to spill it. His best friend Jeff, whom he had called to pick him up from the hospital, had suggested they stop for a drink to relax before they went home, hovered over him, blotting his tie where some of the liquid had spilled, trying not to appear worried.
David was devastated at the news that the Doctor had given him on the severity of the wound that he had sustained. “David”, said the doctor trying to hide his concern, “I’m afraid you have severed several tendons in your hand. It will eventually heal with some scarring…not too much…but I’m afraid that you will never be able to play the piano, as you did before, at least not as a virtuoso… not in competitions.
It may take several weeks…perhaps longer…before you will have any dexterity to speak of but you will at least, have the use of your hand for normal purposes. You came very close to bleeding to death…in retrospect…you are a very lucky young man!”
Jeff tried to console him, reminding him that he still had a gift for composing, and that that’s where his ambitions should lie in the future. No matter what condition his hand was at the moment, he was still a talented young man who had much to offer the music world.
"C'mon David...you're not a quitter...I'll bet you're working on something right now aren't you?" Jeff said “It won’t be easy I know, but it’s better than nothing! Stop feeling sorry for yourself...pick yourself up and go on from here. You're a gifted, talented musician. I bet you're working on something right now, aren't you"? he said.
As they left the restaurant, David was convinced that his life, as he knew it, and all the dreams he had dreamt since he was a child, were over. Now he would have to fashion new dreams for his career. "You're right Jeff" he said shrugging his shoulders. "I want to work on a new compostition I had put aside, in order to concentrate on the competition. Wherever destiny may lead me...music is still my world...and who knows...with the strides medical science has acheived...I still may see my dreams reazlized...miracles Do happen!”
Copyright 2005Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
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Grandma Bea
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