december, 2019 honorable mention: the Grand Piano by ashley woodford

Her weathered, willow-wild hands gently pressed the ivory key. The soft, warm sound that followed lit up the boy's eyes. He sat patient, but anxious, moving ever so slightly, eyes wide with anticipation, as he waited for her instructions. 

Her voice, wise with life but slightly unsteady with age, wavered as she guided him through his first attempt at Chopsticks, "One finger down, one finger up." 

As he listened, his hands practiced the motion in the air. 

One finger down. One finger up.

“Go ahead,” she urged. “You can do it.”

The boy's hands clumsily echoed the quick "bum, bum, bum" rhythm of the song. Upon hitting the last one, he looked up, his anticipation of her approval hung excitedly in the air. He seemed to grow an inch as he sat a little straighter knowing he’d done well. 

Her eyes shone bright and her smile was youthful despite the surrounding map of lines that life had left behind, each crease telling its own story. The joy was heavy in her voice as she praised the boy and proceeded to the next pattern of notes. 

His hands and ears searched frantically for the correct rhythm and balance, but he grew frustrated as he approached the precipice of giving up. Before he could leap or let go, she stretched her left arm behind his slumped shoulders and cradled his small body as she placed her strong, but soft, hands on his, showing him how to press the keys with precise and deliberate movements. Her voice had calmed three daughters, seven grandchildren, and just as many “greatgrands” before him. There he sat, eyes aglow with pride, as he completed the song with her graceful guidance.

For that moment, the souls of the boy and his great-grandmother played delightedly together in perfect harmony.