Melissa

Deaf, dumb and blind boy
    Lives in a quiet vibration land.
Strange as it seems,
    His musical dreams,
Aint quite so bad.    -Pete Townsend


Melissa

         Walking along a quiet trail by the Charles River in the early fall twilight, I began to hear music mingled with the gurgle of water flowing over a small dam.  As I came through a break in the trees, I saw two figures sitting on a bench in a clearing, on a grassy hill overlooking the river.  I stopped and stood silently by the trees, listening.  The music seemed to ebb and flow, then pause as if the sound of the water were an integral part of the song.

         Not wanting to disturb the musicians, I wandered down along the banks in clear view, listening.  During another, longer break in the music, I turned and looked up at them, sitting quietly uphill.  One woman held a guitar; another was leaning close to her, appearing to rub her right hand.  I smiled and waved.  After another moment of hand rubbing, they both waved back.  I walked up the hill towards them.

           “The music is beautiful,” I said, “It seems to flow right along with the river.”  I looked at the girl with the guitar as I spoke, yet she seemed unaware of my presence.  She had long dark hair and large brown eyes, vacant eyes.  The guitar in her lap seemed to dwarf her thin figure.

         “Why, she thanks you,” the woman beside her spoke.  She was older, in her sixties by her appearance, and continued to hold the younger girls hand.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then asked,” Do you mind if I sit and listen?  I come here to relax, and I would like to hear some more, if that’s OK.”

The girl with the guitar made some motions with her hands, slight, yet precise movements, graceful but seemingly pointed.  “Melissa asks what your name is, and what you look like.”  They both looked somewhat bashfully.

“My name is Art.  I live across from the park here.  Could you ask Melissa to play a song for me?”

“She plays when she feels the source, the spring of her talent.  Once it took two years.” said the woman. “Without the connection to her inner light, she drifts, only she knows where.”

Time seemed to have stretched out. The birds, water, wind all moved more slowly as I stared at the girl with the guitar, the girl called ‘Melissa’, the fragile girl with the eloquent hands and empty eyes, deep pools of vacancy.  My own voice broke the spell, “I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” I said as I turned and began my way back towards home.  I felt embarrassed but wasn’t sure why.

“I told her you are quite handsome,” called the woman.

I turned again and the woman was smiling at me.  “She’d like to play some music for you.”  I smiled in return and sat on the grass beside Melissa, I didn’t want to look at her, but hear her soul, the music born of inner light. Light that could not be seen with eyes. I watched the dam churn under the sunset, and carry her music down the river.