A dusty, cluttered attic full of old odds and ends for generations long gone.

Neglected and out of tune lay a broken violin among the dust of years forgotten.

Violins should not be left this way, destroyed by their own misuse.

Forgotten, abandoned, alone; no owner willing to care.

Years of neglect have hardened and ruined the heart and soul of the violin in the attic.

Brand new, well-tuned and ready for its master; the pristine violin waits, eager.  

Hesitant notes fill the air as the hand of a previous player tunes the taut strings.

The notes of a child learning begin; finding their passion for the first time.

There is frustration at the sour notes, then excitement as they get better and stronger with each new piece learned.

The new violin is loved, played, and ready for forever.

Cherished, loved and prized; a family heirloom passed down from generation to generation.  

The feel of the familiar, knowing hands of it's owner puts the anxious and scared feelings at bay.

An audience, applause, and then they pause the hands poise, skilled, waiting to begin. 

Silence.

The all-knowing hands begin. The hands of a classically trained performer.

Perfection, in the violin and the player. Flawless, majestic, beautiful; the art of a performing master.

The hands finish, there is applause from the listeners and pride from the owner.

Excitement and adrenaline, all the anxiety gone until the next performance.

Each violin is special and carries a unique story of it's own to tell. All you have to do is listen.

© 2013 Amber Steinbeigle. All Rights Reserved