Snapshots

Standing Ovation

Pink.

No, mauve.

A soft blend of pink and purple and gold that I think I've seen somewhere before but can't quite place or describe or find just the right shade.

That's what his music sounds like.

Spencer's long fingers stretch and weave delicately across the neck of his violin. He produces a blooming garden of harmonics, arpeggios, and trills.

I can't remember a version of him that didn't involve music. In kindergarten, when we first met, maracas were his instrument of choice. They sounded like bright yellow with flecks of orange. In the first grade, when we first started having playdates, it was the piano. He played streaks of different shades of blue. He was eight when he got his first violin, I think, and the violin has since then been his musical soulmate; his partner for orchestras and concerts throughout middle and high school, creating ribbons of a gorgeous, mystery rosy-violet.

My favorite concert of his was the one right after he had recovered from tendonitis. He had been forced to take a break from practicing for months, and all he could talk about that whole time was how much he missed his music, so I know that concert was special for him, too. The way he smiled throughout his entire performance was so joyful and so real that I couldn't help but smile with him. It was a smile that made his eyes squint and showed all his teeth, the kind where if you try to imitate it everything instantly seems brighter. He practically danced onstage as he played, soaking in the warmth of the spotlight. His giddiness flowed through the strings of his violin. You could hear how happy he was to be back. His performance was perfect and joyous and unlike any I've seen since, painting the air with the most beautiful color I've ever heard.

Now, he's preparing to audition for a performing arts college, and although he's nervous, he really shouldn't be. He has no idea how beautiful he is when he plays. The violin isn't just a passion of his; it's truly a piece of him. When anyone does anything with that much soul, you can't help but fall in love.

His bow glides gracefully over the final note. I jump up from my seat and clap. He gives me that darned smile that melts my heart like a popsicle.

What do you think?

I think he's the best violinist in the world. I think someday he's going to have huge concerts and I'm going to sit in the very front and shout I know him! He's my best friend! I think he's come so far and he should be very proud of himself. I think some nights he practices too much, I think sometimes he's too hard on himself, I think he might be so focused on his violin that he may never see me standing right in front of him with my heart in my hands.

I smile.

I think you're ready for that audition.