Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Snowflakes drifted down through the branches of the Sitka spruces, and I watched Lovesong turn his face upward, catching the flakes on his tongue and letting them melt on his cheeks. He held his knitted glove tighter in mine, and with his other hand wrapped the scarf around his neck so he wouldn’t catch cold. Somewhere in the woods nearby I heard Chet barking at a squirrel, confident that if a battle brewed, Chet would be at our heels in no time.
“It’s beautiful here,” Lovesong said with the kind of smile that might never leave his face. “But why here?”
“Because this is where Steinway comes to make their pianos. These trees are older than anyone living, and the music that’ll be played on their pianos, will outlive all of us.” I pulled the urn from the pocket of my jacket. “This is where he should be. This is where he wants to be.”
I took the lid off the urn.
I sighed away my tears.
And with a shake of my wrist, I sprinkled Joel’s ashes onto the wind.
In a flurry they swirled upward, dancing through the snowflakes and up into the trees…
Each speck settling on the branches like a melody…
Like fingertips on a piano, playing a tune that would echo through this forest… and the classrooms of music teachers… and the concert halls of the world forever.
A week later we were back in New York.
The halls of Juilliard were busy with students prepping for recitals and rushing to dance classes and tuning their violins in the hallways outside their classrooms.
I hastily led Lovesong by the hand through the corridors like I was dragging a kid through a candy store, pulling him away from this sound and that.
“Are you sure you wanna do the Rach 3? You know how hard it is.”
Lovesong wasn’t even listening to me. “What’s in there? Is that a cello class?”
“Lovesong, focus. Have you studied your sheet music?”
“I’ve never played the cello before. Maybe I could try that while I’m here. Ooh, is that a flute I can hear?”
“Focus! This is the door. We’re here.”
I spun him about to face me. I straightened his jacket. I fixed his collar. I took a deep breath, then told him, “Take a deep breath.”
“Noah, stop. I’m not nervous, you are. I’m going to be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Are you about to tell me that Jesus will decide if you get in or not?”
“No,” he laughed. “This is totally up to me. Now let’s do this.”
I kissed him and said, “No matter what happens, I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, kissing me back with a smile.
I took his hand and led him through the wings of the audition stage.
I escorted him out to the Steinway piano sitting in the middle of the stage and made sure he was comfortable on the stool.
I saw Hannah, one of the three judges on the panel seated in the otherwise empty auditorium and gave a little wave.
She smiled and gave a little wave back.
That’s when I felt Lovesong’s hand flicking against my knee. “Shoo, Noah. I’ve got this.”
Quickly I scurried off stage, but I lingered in the wings…
My heart swelling with pride…
Thinking how much Joel would have loved meeting this boy…
This unique and talented boy called Lovesong, who turned to the judging panel and said, “Thank y’all for seeing me. I’m sorry I’m late for my audition. I needed some help finding my way.”
And with that, he began playing.