Nightline

2024/9/16

To Ms.Daniella,the best music teacher in my life.

The mere thing preoccupied me,may the weirdest,her unchanged reclaim of me.Throughout those uneven pages of academic life,I barely held any statues,nor acclaims.”Industrious”,the best may be.Or some pity-sharing teardrop:”Quite promising.”Nevertheless,she is the one owning me the wise hat.And obviously it labelled me in her massive elegant head ,while it was the fabulous crown I could match in no way.There’s typically no evidence showing any trait of my given gifts,with only those hardships along the all way.

She was so subtle to bridge the year gap between cracked minds,making for simple pleasantries,and old days were inevitable.But sadly,she isn’t some of sentimental hooking with nostalgia,at least unveiled on the surface.She directed the greeting way,sliding an glimpse at my conditions, then swiftly turned away before much was unfolded.Dad tried to please her cautiously,with those she didn’t give a mere glance.She eventually took the terminator,but unleashed her own thoughts on me.The minimum,as her usual coldest manner,she’d said I’m always the wise one.By no means it will fail me.

What came to me about the past days,mostly were lens of her zooming in the school,holding the poker face,and the chaste heart underlay in her pounding chest was no way to learn before we who students left her.Once years ticked away,until the distances separated us now rebond us,it’s the time to seize her stunning beauty inside and outside in turn.Marvelously,we recognized her, reread her before we returned to her side,and found us frozen by her chasteness of soul.

She was into Haydn fondly.I haven’t got clues about it,partly for I listened to no classics,before and after our times.The time I retouched where old stories floated,seemingly those tranquil Wednesday afternoons still stood,in which she locked herself forever in those unfaded pieces,echoing through melancholy and miserableness,at last yielding to a rose.

Ineffect it was,I hid my way to the unnoticeable shade beneath grand Platanus,the whole scene visible from my elevated horizon.She was stunning in her emerald green qipao,shining through her unyielding adulthood.Same was her piercing eyesight as nothing was to evade from it.Silently solemn as she stood,I cast her a last glance for au revoir,cherishing the last thought of her awareness of my presence.She didn’t turned her gaze back,or it might just fall behind my turning-around.

I weaved through the reassuring spring air,feeling somewhere indeed resurrected. I might be kind of wise for letting go of our old complexes,blowing them into the bearing warm waves.