Speaking Through Music

It was a cold, blustery night in the small village of Instrumentown. Eliza sat backstage, trying to practice her song for the biggest event of the year, the Annual Musicians Gathering. She was playing the violin and she had practiced the song hundreds of times. But tonight was different. She had never played in front of an audience before, other than her parents. Yet she was determined to do this.
    
The manager came in. “Eliza Brooks, you have five minutes till you’re on,” he said nonchalantly, not expecting a reply.
    
Eliza panicked. It was as if everything was coming full circle. Like an old-time movie screen, her whole life flashed before her eyes. Memories from her childhood, being laughed at and teased because she had nonverbal autism. Memories of doctors trying to get her to speak, to no avail. Memories of her mother sitting at the edge of her bed, crying for the daughter she would never fully understand.
    
“C’mon, Eliza, you’re next,” he said, pointing to the stage.
    
Eliza slowly got up and took her music and violin with her. She stepped onto the edge of the stage and froze. At least five hundred heads dotted the auditorium. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her stomach was tied up in knots. People whispered to each other and shifted in their seats. Eliza took a deep breath and a step forward. Then another.

Finally, she was in position. She took one last deep breath and went for it. The music soared through the auditorium. Every note a magnificent embodiment of her emotions. Eliza closed her eyes and flowed with the notes. Nothing else mattered. This was her shining moment.
    
Then, as if a magical force was in her, she started to sing. Beautiful, melodious notes. Everybody’s mouths dropped open. Wait a second . . . I’m singing! Eliza thought excitedly. As the song ended, everybody clapped and cheered, while her mother and father in the front row started to cry with joy. Eliza, a girl who never learned to speak, had sung. She had found her way . . . through music.