“Harmonize with me,” she said, nudging him in the side.
Worry, instead of the joy she’d expected, stared back at her. “I’ve never been musical,” he said.
“It’s easy. Listen to me, and follow along.” She opened her mouth and trilled among the airy, tinkling sounds of a fresh, spring day.
He shook his head, frustrated and confused.”I can’t match you. You’re too high.”
Taking his hand in hers, she said, “You don’t need to match me. I need the strength of your lower register to tether me.”
He opened his mouth, and snapped it with a grimace. “It’s like thunder in the distance, jumbled and overpowering at times; I can’t always hear you. What if there’s a bad note and it sounds off?”
She snuggled closer and rested her head over his heart. “That’s the wonderful thing about music; even when the harmony is off, the two parts eventually find their way together again.”
“Alright, but go slowly. I don’t want to get lost.” She squeezed his hand, and placed it over her heart, giving him the courage to try. He found a key and rumbled in, his voice rusty and discordant clashing with her lighter melody. But as a summer storm crescendos and fades, he eased into a mellow harmony, his notes stable and supportive.
Finally having found a tether, she allowed him to guide and anchor her with his deep, thoughtful harmony, while she encouraged his voice to flourish with her steadfast melody. They settled into a comfortable song, one which changed as the years progressed until it was no longer possible to tell who sang which part.
(C) Sara Ackerman, 2017