Right from birth, Karen had never understood her creative, dreamy daughter, Matilda. A marine biologist, her entire world was classified into the natural order of things while Matilda didn’t fit into any category, and she couldn’t get a diagnosis!
“Matilda!” she screamed after stepping on a wet painting.
Battling long covid, now more than ever she questioned:“Why couldn’t I have a normal child?”
Karen fell into her chair, immediately leaping to her feet. The neck of Matilda’s violin had snapped like a dead man hanging from a noose, and Karen had become “The Scream”.
That was it! No more violin.
100 words PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood
I was delighted to see this week’s prompt as I play the violin, although I stop well short of calling myself a violinist these days. Practice had dropped off before my lessons stopped during covid, but I’ve been picking it up a bit again lately and am practicing Peter Allen’s hit: “I Still Call Australia Home”. My mother used to play it on the piano and I’m wanting to play it with her and I really do love the words of the song.
When I was growing up, Mum would occasionally lose patience with the eccentricity of the rest of us and ask: “Why can’t this family be normal?” Mum played things pretty much by the book but the rest of us didn’t even know where to find it. As it turned out, in my mid-20’s I was diagnosed with hydrocephalus and had a shunt inserted to sort things out. Being creative, I wasn’t exactly “fixed” but I was a new improved version of myself and at least I wasn’t falling over all the time.
It wouldn’t surprise me if my husband had told me not to leave my violin on a chair in case someone sat on it; and I’m probably lucky my violin’s still in one piece.
This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff Fields at Addicted to Purple.
Glad you are luckier than Mathilda – I forsee a family argument about to erupt!
I doubt if Karen will ever understand, but hopefully she’ll someday enjoy just experiencing and not understanding. As long as the experience is better than a pain in the backside 😉
I could feel the stress building in your story. Just one of those days.
Oh dear, never strive for normal. I hope you continue to play.
There’s a story in your story…diagnosed in your mid-twenties! You are courageous!
I feel this way about my kids too sometimes – I think part of parenting is learning how different your kids are from you, and accepting it instead of trying to fit them into your own mold. Poor Matilda, I’m not sure the violin deserved that!
Good story. I was looking up “violinist” (one who plays the violin) in the dictionary and checked the thesaurus for synonyms. It seems every person who plays any instrument is a synonym for violinist (or fiddler). I play no instrument and my singing voice is awful. But I listen well (when I can hear it) and enjoy those with talent, ability, and who’ve done the hard work.
Quite the divide between mother and daughter. My heart snapped with the neck of the violin.
Great story and keep on playing 💞
like they say, stick to where your passion is the hope for the best.
We have no children, but I can feel this mother’s frustration. Then to accidentally snap the neck of the violin. I fear there’s a confrontation on the horizon.
It’s not always easy to understand a child who is very different than we are. Love and acceptance is the next best thing, oh, and encouragement too. 🙂 I hope Matilda can get another violin and keeps painting. I hope Karen recovers from long COVID and begins to accept her daughter. Very nice slice of life story, Rowena!
It’s easy to sympathize with both mom and daughter. Your story is SO believable!
I’m sorry for the child. Karen is a narrow-minded woman. Being a scientist is no excuse.
Yipes, stressful every which-way. Making music together sounds like a happy medium.
I’m glad your violin is still in one piece. Perhaps Karen should take up meditation or long walks.