ManFromTheSouth
06-01-2014, 08:42 AM
Just like old times
Standing on a low stool, I gently took out the black rectangular case from the top of cabinet. The leather around the handle of the case was cracked with few shallow fissures. Probably in old-time my hand sweated a lot that eroded the surface of the handle eventually. When I used my finger to give a light brush on the case’s nylon surface, the dust just swirled in air.
Following by a zipper sound, I opened the case. “Long time no see, buddy”. The natural fragrance of wood floated up immediately, a pure pleasure for my nose. The scratches and faded spots on the body seemed like wrinkles and age-marks on an old man’s face. I guess he was really an old man, he came to the world in 1930s that was hand-made by an Italian craftsman. Who knew the number of time he had gotten changed hand, I believed it was a fate that I could possess this violin.
I lifted him from the golden velvet lined case, took out the bow and twisted the metal ring at the bottom of the bow to strengthen the bow’s hair. Placing his stained almond body on my shoulder, I started to tune the tone of my violin with my left hand holding the grained neck and right hand swiveling the pegs finely.
Everything was ready, the four strings vibrated harmonically and each string gave out its precise pitch. No doubt I could play one of the masterpieces at anytime. As I drew the bow across G string to A string to perform a chord, a powerful and loud roar surged from the curved hollow box to the thin air, just like the old days, he could still give impressive sounds with huge depth and richness. Closing my eyes, I could feel that the music kept pumping energy to my body. The BWV 1004 in D minor occupied my mind completely at that moment, even my heartbeat was trying to catch up with the rhythm. When I performed a heavy tone, my upper body ducked and I swung the bow to rub heavily on the strings. My fingers kept gliding back and forth on the fretboard smoothly like a fish flowing in the stream. My wrist fluctuated vigorously making my fingertips wobble on the strings, every vibrato I played endowed the melody with life and energy, the notes on the score could really dance. I was having a magical moment with my violin, in a world without agony.
I couldn’t remember the exact time I spent with my buddy, the reunion probably would go on if I didn’t have to work again. I enjoyed the time so much, it felt like I was lying on a meadow, having a light breeze of wind caress my face, so comfortable and relax. I sat on the sofa and gazed on my buddy with regretful eyes. I thought I should have met him regularly. He seemed like a poor lonely old man after I left him behind for a long time.
I used a piece of silk cloth to swab the thin rosin layer off his wooden body, gently let him lay on the velvet lined case again. “See you old buddy, I love spending time with you, just like the old days.” I closed the case and put it beside my bed while the echo of strings continued to resound in my ears.
Standing on a low stool, I gently took out the black rectangular case from the top of cabinet. The leather around the handle of the case was cracked with few shallow fissures. Probably in old-time my hand sweated a lot that eroded the surface of the handle eventually. When I used my finger to give a light brush on the case’s nylon surface, the dust just swirled in air.
Following by a zipper sound, I opened the case. “Long time no see, buddy”. The natural fragrance of wood floated up immediately, a pure pleasure for my nose. The scratches and faded spots on the body seemed like wrinkles and age-marks on an old man’s face. I guess he was really an old man, he came to the world in 1930s that was hand-made by an Italian craftsman. Who knew the number of time he had gotten changed hand, I believed it was a fate that I could possess this violin.
I lifted him from the golden velvet lined case, took out the bow and twisted the metal ring at the bottom of the bow to strengthen the bow’s hair. Placing his stained almond body on my shoulder, I started to tune the tone of my violin with my left hand holding the grained neck and right hand swiveling the pegs finely.
Everything was ready, the four strings vibrated harmonically and each string gave out its precise pitch. No doubt I could play one of the masterpieces at anytime. As I drew the bow across G string to A string to perform a chord, a powerful and loud roar surged from the curved hollow box to the thin air, just like the old days, he could still give impressive sounds with huge depth and richness. Closing my eyes, I could feel that the music kept pumping energy to my body. The BWV 1004 in D minor occupied my mind completely at that moment, even my heartbeat was trying to catch up with the rhythm. When I performed a heavy tone, my upper body ducked and I swung the bow to rub heavily on the strings. My fingers kept gliding back and forth on the fretboard smoothly like a fish flowing in the stream. My wrist fluctuated vigorously making my fingertips wobble on the strings, every vibrato I played endowed the melody with life and energy, the notes on the score could really dance. I was having a magical moment with my violin, in a world without agony.
I couldn’t remember the exact time I spent with my buddy, the reunion probably would go on if I didn’t have to work again. I enjoyed the time so much, it felt like I was lying on a meadow, having a light breeze of wind caress my face, so comfortable and relax. I sat on the sofa and gazed on my buddy with regretful eyes. I thought I should have met him regularly. He seemed like a poor lonely old man after I left him behind for a long time.
I used a piece of silk cloth to swab the thin rosin layer off his wooden body, gently let him lay on the velvet lined case again. “See you old buddy, I love spending time with you, just like the old days.” I closed the case and put it beside my bed while the echo of strings continued to resound in my ears.