It is dusty. There is a strong smell of pine coming from the rosin lying next to me. My velvet blanket covers me as I wait for my owner to take me out of this dark, musty coffin.

I have not seen daylight for at least fifteen hours. I needed to get out and I needed to get out fast. Just as I was about to give up hope once more, I heard the faint sounds of footsteps in the distance. They were coming closer and closer, and finally, a little patch of light shone through the case. Big blue eyes stared down at me, and a frown covered the girl’s face. She did not look too ecstatic to see me again, but I did not even mind, I was just happy to have the chance to play my soft, melodious music again for the world!

Plink, Plang, Plong! My E, A, D, and G strings all twanged against my fingerboard and caused my whole handcrafted, wooden body to reverberate. The girl began to complain about how out of tune I was and mindlessly rotated my fine tuners and tuning pegs. Finally, maybe after about three more minutes, the girl finished with tuning me to perfection. She picked up the bow and rested me on her shoulder; her chin snuggly slouched upon the chin rest. She quickly started to Play Concerto in g minor by Vivaldi, trying to finish the song as fast as possible, so she would not have to practice for long. I had become sick of this unpleasant, disrespectful attitude of hers, so I thought it would be best if I spoke up and said something.

“Hey! That is NOT how Vivaldi would want you to play this song!” I said angrily.

The girl screamed and stared down at me, speechless, almost waiting for me to continue talking. So I did.

“I would just appreciate it if you would take your time practicing and actually try to improve your playing skills. I love when you take me out to play a couple songs! So don’t rush through the songs so quickly because then I just get put right back into that dark case over there!” I said.

The girl still looked surprised and confused, but she spoke up.

“You are a violin! You can’t talk!” she state to me matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I am a violin, but before, I have never felt the need to speak to you. You used to enjoy playing for everyone in your family. You would be so proud of the songs that you mastered and could play by memory and you would play them for hours. But once you turned fifteen, everything seemed to change. I began to see you less and less and now I only see you once every couple of days,” I said with a saddened tone in my voice.

“I never thought you were alive or even had feelings! I guess I just got caught up in everything and don’t get around to playing as much. You understand that, right?” she said as she gazed down at me.

Her eyes almost looked as if they were begging me to forgive her. I was not quite sure, thought, and wanted to make sure she understood where I was coming from.

“Yes, but you could at least play more than two songs when you practice! You rush through the songs so fast that I don’t even have time to enjoy them!” I bluntly stated.

The girl’s eyes dropped to the floor. A look of guilt swept over her face.

“All right, all right. I get your point. I know I should be practicing more and I promise I will. Starting today! Let’s go through a couple songs in this violin book to start with and maybe we will even run through a couple of scales!” She smiled as she picked me up to start playing.

“That’s all I ask!” I answered back.

From that day on, the girl always practiced every day. She soared through violin book after violin book and even went to recitals without complaining. I never had to speak out loud to her again, but we silently communicate every time she goes to play on one of my strings. I even think she is beginning to enjoy playing as much as she used to when she was a little girl. Sometimes in life, we all need a little reminder to get us back on the right track!