Friends come and friends go, but a true friend sticks by you
like family. (Proverbs 18:24, The Message)
This is my oldest friend. She has been with me since I was
about 8 or 10 years old and travelled the world with me, now living behind the
couch in Scotland. We were separated for five years when I was first married,
because I couldn’t afford the air fare to get her here from California. Then,
returning to Scotland one January in days when planes were not always full, we
audaciously carried her on without having purchased her seat. A helpful air
hostess put her in a closet on board, and my cello and I were reunited at last.
I don’t play my cello often enough, and when I do, I
recognise that I have slipped since the days of daily practice. Yet still much
of it comes back to me and I soon get lost in the resonance and beauty of her
sonorous voice.
I of course value my human friends above my cello, but my
cello has been with me singing her heart out in great orchestras playing some
wonderful music, in small string quartets and in occasional solo spots. She has
felt the nervous perspiration on my fingers at times and responded to my sorrowful
or joyous heartbeat other times.
When words fail, there is nothing like my cello.
Music is a gift. A universal gift for which I am grateful.
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