Sarah's Song

• Esther Khoo, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2009

Her slender fingers reached out to touch the white ivory keys, but she pulled away. Sarah’s reflection in the black shiny surface stared back at her, daring her to play. She closed her eyes, and then heard the music playing.
A smaller Sarah sat on the black leather piano bench. The sweet music had just stopped, and her mother scribbled notes on the parallel music lines. “That’s your song, Sarah.” Her mother pulled her into her lap, and started playing again. Sarah leaned her head back, watching the keys rapidly move up and down, listening to her serenade. Sarah loved seeing her mother sing and hum around the house.
On hindsight, Sarah realized that her mother never really left home. Sarah’s mother was petite complemented by pale skin. She often went into coughing fits, but Sarah didn’t think it was abnormal. The house was dusty with stacks of books anyway. Her mother flitted through the house like a hummingbird, humming Sarah’s song. Her piano students would come for class, and Sarah often watched her mother teach. The piano lid was seldom shut.
“Are you ready?” Sarah glanced up, anxiously stretching her fingers, while her mother looked on. Her first piano concert. It suddenly seemed to Sarah that her mother seemed more stressed than her. The past few months had Sarah busy practicing and organizing this concert. As a result, she seldom saw her mother. After all, this concert could make or break her career. Dark rings circled her mother’s eyes, and she seemed to have shrunk in the past months. She hugged her mother’s frail frame before going onstage. They smiled. Sarah heard her song being hummed as her mother turned to take her seat in the audience.
As Sarah walked onstage, the bright stage lights blinded her. Was it a trick of the light, or was her mother’s seat empty? Sarah took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Her mother’s humming played in her head. The music flowed, and her hands moved up and down the piano. She was playing her song.
Sarah was still in shock. After her piano concert she had been rushed to the hospital. Her mother lay there, attached to numerous tubes, all fighting to keep her alive. The pneumonia was much worse than expected. The concert meant nothing as Sarah gripped her mother’s hand tightly. Suddenly, it went limp. Sarah would never hear her mother sing her song again. The cold wind sent a shiver down her spine.
The sudden gust of wind made her blink and stare. How long had she been sitting like this? The piano sat there, unchanged. Sarah leaned to close the piano cover, but a white paper wedged between the lid caught her eye. She carefully removed it, and closed the lid softly.

Sarah,
Music is the best gift I gave you. Remember your song, and keep playing it.
Mother

Tears flowed, pooling streams across her face. Sarah gently opened the piano again, and started playing her song.