The Brass Bell and the Echoes of Memory

In a sunshine afternoon,  we come to see our senior friends as usual. We see some new face with smile, they would love us to come see them, the same to us. Before we start our live concert in the activity room, we always chat with them, like "have you read over that opera book ", "How do you like your breakfast this morning", we also share our recently activity with them, "I went to theater last Saturday with my dad". But the favorite thing we like to share with them are talking about our instrument and how we rehearsal for today's performance. I took out my French Horn, it glowed like a coiled sunrise in my hand, its golden curves a bridge between centuries. A lady nod when I introduce it, she was French Horn player before, she know what I said,  "This isn't just a horn", I began,  voice trembling with the thrill of a high schooler sharing our secret, "my horn is a double horn, it has rich sounds elements,  it can play different style of melody, just like a conversation between past and present", some of them leaned forward, I think they might not know much about Horn, so their eyes bright with curiosity and  can’t wait to hear.

When I lifted my horn to play my piece, the room stilled, the first notes of Concert Corno in F. spilled out, full of warm and liquid, it is weaving through the air like a thread pulling taut. Their faces soften, and smiling, a lady in a floral sweater heard and closed her eyes and tapping her fingers with the melody, a grandpa listened carefully as tap with his foot, as  if the melody unlocked the door to a spring for long time ago. My horn has rich of sound as an aged whiskey, some time, I play it as bright as a childhood laugh, swelling into corners, at that moment, everyone is felled into it impressively.

As the last note faded, applause rippled like raining, but the most impression me as their smiling, I saw that music hadn't not just filled the room, it also gently knocked  the dusty doors to face their happiness, here, my French Hone is not just a gleaming, awkward thing that I practiced in my room, it become a time machine that bring us together, and we all traveled together.