The next day
Shonee’s POV
“Mirasol?” I made my way over to her room. “Mirasol, come on. It’s time for your violin classes. Mr. Dundy is already here.”
When I pushed past her door, I found her seated on the edge of her bed, staring at the flyer Fred had given us yesterday.
“Where did you get that?”
“I went into your room for it,” Mirasol said with a shrug.
“Hmm.” Shaking my head, I sat beside her on the bed. “You’re thinking about joining?”
“Yes but…I’m scared.” The little girl bit her lip. “I’ve never played in front of strangers before.”
“You’ve played in front of me before.” I pointed out.
“You’re my nanny, not a stranger,” she countered.
“Ok, checks out,” I chuckled. “But you shouldn’t be worried about that, Mirasol. You’re going to do great.”
Her eyebrows descended into a small frown. “How do you know that?”
I turned to her. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is for adults to play the violin?”
“No,” She mumbled.
“It’s extremely difficult. Some people take months or years, and they never get any better. But you Mirasol, you’re just five years old and you’re already playing like a pro. This is you; your God-given talent and you can never go wrong with something like that. This is something you were born to do, so you shouldn’t be afraid to share it with the world. I believe you can do it, Gerta believes you can do it, and even your dad believes you can do it. And if three people who care about you so much believe strongly that you can do this, there is absolutely nothing that can stop you from doing it and doing it well.”
Mirasol remained quiet for a minute, then turned to me with puppy dog eyes. “You really think I can do it?”
“Of course, Mira.” I cupped her face. “To me, you are the best violin player in the entire world.”
Grinning widely, her little arms wrapped me in a hug, which I didn’t hesitate to return.
“I love you, Shonee.”
Those words, even though they were muffled, sent a stream of warmth travelling through my heart as I held her close. “Love you too, Mira.” I laid a dainty kiss on her head before rubbing her back. “Come on, let’s head over to your class. Mr. Dundy has been waiting for a while now.”
*****
Saturday came by so fast; it was as if I blinked, and it was right in front of me.
“There, you’re all set.” I finished up her purple braided pigtails with a spritz of hairspray. “Ready to knock some socks off at this audition?”
“Yes!” Mirasol cheered.
After a few more preps and informing Gerta about our whereabouts, Mirasol and I hopped into the awaiting car, ready to transport us to the lecture auditorium they had booked for rehearsal.
In less than thirty minutes, we arrived at the venue. Mirasol clutched my hand as we entered the room filled with other aspiring musicians. Children and their parents occupied some of the seats while others formed a queue leading up to a raised platform. Just in front of a table, which I guessed had been set up for the judges, Fred stood with a clipboard, ticking away. When he lifted his head, our eyes met. I sent him a wave as he approached us with an encouraging smile. “Fancy seeing you here, how are you, Angel?”
Mirasol let out a meek “good.” Her nerves had obviously set in.
“Hope we’re not late for anything?” I asked.
“Oh, not at all. We’re just getting started. Mirasol, why don’t you join the kids in the queue over there.” Fred pointed towards the stage. “When it’s your turn, you climb up and head over to the violin stand, ok?”
She nodded, and then she turned to me.
“C’mon, let’s go join the queue.” After thanking Fred, we descended the stairs, meeting the other kids at the bottom.
“Ok.” I squatted in front of her with a reassuring smile. “Remember what we talked about, Mira. You've got this. Just play from your heart, and everyone will love it.”
Mirasol nodded and wrapped me in a warm hug before taking her violin case from me.
Fred mounted the stage, signalling that the auditions were about to start. I quickly found myself a seat, two rows away from the raised platform. I wanted Mirasol to have a good view of me as she played.
The auditions began with stellar flute, trumpet, piano and harp performances. Drum performances, mostly by boys had everyone bobbing their heads to the beat. I noticed that most of the kids were older, ranging from six to twelve years old. Meaning Mirasol was the youngest person here. Nonetheless, I was quite confident that she would do well.
After a series of instruments were played, it was finally her turn. I pushed myself up in my seat. Clutching her violin case, Mirasol climbed up, attracting some murmurs.
“What’s a preschooler doing here?” I heard one mum ask.
“She’s so small.” One boy in front of me remarked. “I hope she knows what she’s doing.”
Honestly, it took all the self-restraint to stop me from getting up and yelling ‘Shut up!’ Regardless of her age, I believed Mirasol had the right to perform like every other kid here.
“Think your girl has got what it takes?” Fred plummeted into the empty chair on my left, startling me a bit.
“Yeah,” I responded, turning back to the stage. “We practised extensively yesterday. She’s totally got this.”
Mirasol turned to the audience, that familiar expression of gloom hiding all the fear within her as she lifted her bow and positioned her violin. Since I was her nanny, I was probably the only one who could see how scared she was. Nonetheless, string met string, and Mirasol played out the beginning notes of Jolly Old Saint Nicholas, her favourite Christmas carol.
The entire auditorium fell silent, allowing only the tunes from Mirasol’s instrument to ring out. In fact, it was amazing, seeing how everyone shut their beaks and gazed in awe at what this little five-year-old was doing. She was defying all odds and as her nanny, I was prouder than a peacock…until Mirasol made a mistake.
She must’ve hit the wrong string because she froze, confusion evident on her face.
“Come on, Mira.” I scooted forward in my seat.
The mumbles began and they made her even more confused as her eyes scanned the crowd. When they landed on me, I made a heart symbol and gave her an encouraging nod, mouthing ‘You got this.’
Mirasol, in turn, nodded then pulled in a deep breath, stepping away from her stand.
“Call in the next kid!” Someone yelled.
“She’s not done yet!” I snapped in return, earning a few curious and weird glances. But I didn’t care. “Go ahead, Mirasol! You can do it!”
A smile graced her features as she repositioned her violin.
This time, when she started playing, it was as if time stood still. The room filled with the sweet melody of Mirasol's violin, a melody I was quite familiar with.
Clean Bandit’s Symphony.
It was one of the new songs Mr. Dundy was teaching Mirasol to play, but she struggled to get the concept. I watched her try several times during practice, trying to get everything right. To see her standing there, challenging herself to play that difficult song had me brimming in awe. Her nervousness melted away, replaced by a confident and passionate performance.
As the last note resonated, the room erupted into applause. Mirasol looked around, her face beaming with a sense of accomplishment. I stood up, clapping and cheering louder than anyone else, overwhelmed with pride for the little girl who had overcome her fears and showcased her incredible talent.
“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said she was an excellent violinist,” Fred remarked.
“Duuh, obviously.” I shoved him playfully.
Packing her instrument, Mirasol came down and I met her halfway capturing her in a big hug.
She did it! She did it ten times better than anyone ever thought she would, and my heart leapt for joy.
The performances continued, but none of them topped Mirasol’s. And just as I expected her name was the first to be mentioned when the judges finally announced the list of those who had made the cut.
After the audition, as we headed back home, Mirasol couldn’t stop talking about how much fun she had and how she couldn’t wait for their first rehearsal for the grand opening. The fear that once held her back was replaced with a newfound confidence, and it was evident that this journey had not only been about playing the violin but also about discovering her own strength and resilience.
As her nanny, what can I say? I couldn’t have been prouder. Mirasol had not just played the violin; she had played her heart out, proving that sometimes, the most beautiful music comes from the courage to share your talent with the world.