When he had stepped off the plane and the humidity washed over his face, immediately forming a thin layer of perspiration on his skin, he knew he had made it to paradise.
It was a vacation he needed to take. By himself. He had booked it spur of the moment, no real destination in mind. When he had first boarded the plane he was a little nervous - scared of what was to come. He had never been there. Knew nothing about the island, the culture, what kind of weather was to arrive later. He was strictly going with the flow.
The room was nice if not a little bit tiny, but it didn't really matter. The only time he planned on spending within its four walls was to sleep, change, and wash up. He wasn't there to stay inside. Deep down within he felt the need to go out and explore. Meet the locals, trying new things, embrace the culture. For the last eight months his mind had become polluted - filled with all the spoils of the big city. Pollution, stubbornness, commuters, office politics, and worst of all selfishness. As all of it slowly seeped into his body he could feel it weighing down on his soul, pressing against his heart. He felt less like a man, less like a human being, and more like cattle - just a piece of meat in the work force. Easily forgotten about - chewed up and spit out once used.
So explore he did. He made it a routine to walk around the town in the early morning. Strike up conversations with the fishermen that were loading their boats with nets and chum, help the older shriveled ladies with their groceries as they wandered back from the grocery store, waved at children as they made their way to school. After a couple days he no longer needed to provoke interactions - the people of the town smiled when they saw him, asked him how his previous night was - what he did, where did he go. Simple questions. And that's all he ever needed. He felt appreciated again. Like a part of the community. It was startling that complete strangers had the ability to make him feel like someone again - that he was worth while. He could feel the weight coming off his chest, a bounce coming back to his step - he felt refreshed.
And that was all before he had found the piano. Just sitting there, nestled along the walkway by the pier. It had seen better days. The wood had become swollen with seawater, bulging and swelling, cracking in some spots. It's surface was covered in a fine white layer of dried salt - color faded, stolen by the sun. When he first sat down, he didn't imagine it could sound as pure and rich as it did. Somehow the wires hadn't lost tension, managing to weather the elements. As his fingers danced across the keys, its beautiful tone drifted out over the bay, filling the air. It wasn't long before a little girl came out of an alleyway and sat on the wall, staring at him as he played, gently nodding her head and tapping her feet. When he was finished, she scamped away, without a word, back from where she came.
The very next day, he ended his evening the same way and much to his surprise, again the little girl came out, sat, listened, and left. He couldn't help but feel a little strange about the situation, but he couldn't help but appreciate the audience. As his vacation continued, a nightly session became a routine and each time, she'd be there, ready to listen. Not a word was said between them until it was his last evening on the island before he had to return home. After he was done playing, before she made her way back into town, he leaned forward and explained that he was leaving the next day and how much he had enjoyed sharing each night with her. She just stared back expressionless - letting his words linger in the humidity for a moment or two before shimmying off the wall and disappearing into the night.
Before he made his way to the airport the next day, he did one final loop through the town, wishing the fishermen a bountiful harvest, saying goodbye to the old ladies, and passing the piano one final time. As he walked by, he noticed something resting on top - a little bracelet, of twine and sea shells, clearly handmade. Below it there was a folded piece of paper. Placing the gift on his wrist, he opened the paper - finding it to be a note.
"Thank you."
No comments:
Post a Comment