January 3rd, 2018.
That is the day your music stopped.
I knew it would, but I could not have imagined how empty our house became.
No one else noticed that. They missed you of course, Mom, Dad, even our sister, but they didn’t notice the things I did.
Like when you came home late, those nights I was the only one up, raptured by my book.
Before your car’s light began to shine through my closed blinds, I would hear your music, playing so loud it would wake me sometimes.
I never minded though.
I would wait for you to come inside, listen as you whisper-sang the lyrics to the songs you loved so much, closing the door behind you.
I would lay down my book and just rest as you half ran up the stairs, opening and closing the doors between your room and the bathroom, getting ready for bed. When you finally finished I’d simply go back to my book, a smile resting on my lips.
Or when you sang in the shower. You either couldn’t hear yourself or just didn’t care how you sounded, because your voice would go on off notes cracking.
But it always brought a smile to our Mom’s face, softening the room.
I remember when you played your music upstairs, real music, loud and half hazzard.
But because of the constant ache in Dad’s head, you plugged your instruments into your computer, shutting us in a silence. But I would often still feel a faint beat in my room, your foot tapping the floor, your instruments silent but still thrumming.
I remember how youth-group changed without you there. I felt lost without a comforting face to look upon.
But it wasn’t until later that summer,when we went to visit you that i accepted the silence, because even though the music followed you, we were not together 24/7. I would never be able to live in it again.
That summer was a hard summer. But by the end I began to press play on a new track.
August 27th, 2018.
That was the day my music started.
Write about the day the music stopped