january 20th, 4:29pm

Hello! I hope you all are doing well. Feel free to ignore the text at the end haha. I'll be rambling in this chapter for a bit. I've been maudlin lately. :')

—

—

I am familiar with grief. It has accompanied me countless times. When I press my fingers down the keys of the piano, it drags down its bow onto the strings of the violin.

A young girl runs along the field with a water balloon in hand. She runs and runs, seemingly away from and after no one in particular. She runs just because she can. She runs because she is free.

The piano dominates the first quarter of the song. You can hear the fervor poured into each note. The violin strums softly in the background, almost forgotten, but its melody lurks akin to a predator watching its prey.

A young girl sits in the corner of the unfamiliar home. Though there is no one there to accompany her, she is happy because she is not alone. She watches her relatives laugh and share drinks with each other, and she watches her little siblings play and chase after the kids the adults left in their care.

As the piano slows, the violin begins to pick up the pace with newfound vigor.

A young girl comes home with exciting news. Her younger siblings comes home with unfortunate news.

The melody of the piano begins to falter, permitting the violinist to start its solo.

A young girl gains friends. A young girl loses family.

A sharp note accompanied by naturals and other sharps is drawn. Quickly and briefly. Just like—

The funerals. The young girl remembers every single one of them.

The pianist gazes longingly at her accompanist. The song never once wavers as the violinist continues the performance.

The young girl remembers herself before at twelve. She remembers her grandparents leaving her home. She is alone with her siblings. She is alone with these new responsibilities as the eldest child.

By then the violin has completely dominated the piano, and consumed the piece to its entirety.

The young girl remembers being captain of the volleyball team. The young girl remembers being secretary of the student council. The young girl remembers being the top two of her class.

Quietly and reverently, the sounds of a piano begins to trickle in slowly. The violinist has yet to notice.

The young girl remembers the beginnings of the pandemic at fifteen. The young girl remembers the beginning of an end to a wonderful friendship at seventeen.

A loud sharp note greets itself and the violin stops in reply.

The young girl remembers and remembers, and slowly, she recognizes.

A beat of silence.

She recognizes the signs and losses. She recognizes her inner turmoil created by the pulleys of time and circumstances, functioning with ease and robustness. Time never stops, and so does she.

The violinist turns around and greets the pianist.

The young girl runs along the field with a water balloon in hand.

Together, they ready their hands above their instruments.

The young girl throws the object in hand to the older girl ahead of her.

Together, they resume their performance.

The older girl pays no mind just because she can. She pays no mind because she is free.

—

"How does one get through grief?

"It starts by remembering.

"And it ends by letting go."