The Promise

I watch her work to place her fingers in the correct position.
Her fingertips on the frets and her chin desperately trying to hold the violin in place.
Finally, with all ready, she pulls the bow across the strings.
A frown, a look of disappointment, almost sadness at the sound it makes.
I know she imagined sweet notes of beauty coming out of her Grandfather’s violin.
An intense look of concentration and she tries again.
This time the pull sounds sweeter even if a little shaky.
An almost smile comes over her face and in her eyes at the promise the note holds.
A promise for something better. A promise for her ability to make something beautiful.
A promise that yes, she is indeed capable.
I am amazed I made something as beautiful as her as I watch her lovingly and reverently handle the heirloom.
She has a respect and a curiosity for the history of it that I have rarely seen from a child so young.
She pulls again and a sweet clear note comes streaming forth from the strings.
I can almost feel her Grandfather watching with approval.
She smiles, no, she Beams with the joy of success and accomplishment and I am overcome with the wonderful promise of her.
My daughter, my world.


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