Violet rarely spoke. When she did it was in a hushed voice. She thought no one would understand her. Sadly she came into this world without the gift of hearing. At six years of age, she had no friends and was schooled by her loving Mother at home. She read books, played games and watched children’s television but she rarely showed emotion.
One afternoon she was walking hand in hand with her Mum through a crowded underground station. Violet suddenly stopped. Her Mother signed to her to keep moving, she didn’t want to miss the train. But Violet stood firm. She pointed to a tunnel leading off to the right, then tapped her ear. Then she tugged as hard as she could. Normally Mum could read Violet’s thoughts through her expressions and gestures, but just then she had no idea what was racing through her daughter’s mind.
Violet dragged her Mother as quickly as she could, weaving this way and that through the crowded tunnel. They turned a corner and a busker came into view; a flaxen-haired girl in a flowing dress playing a sweet melody on her violin. Violet dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged in front of her. They locked eyes as the notes flowed from the instrument. Then Violet turned to her Mother and smiled. She rarely smiled.
Nobody was able to explain why she was able to hear the violin that day, or if in fact, she had. Perhaps she felt it, sensed it. Whatever it was, her life changed from that day forward.
Several years have since passed, and she’s now at university and one of the most popular girls in her year. Tonight she is to lead the Festival Orchestra in their performance of Bruch’s Violin Concerto, and the proudest member of the audience will be her Mother. Violet won’t hear the rapturous applause she is certain to receive, but she will relish it just the same.