The Music Lesson by Victor L. Wooten

Author:Victor L. Wooten [Wooten, Victor L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2008-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

MEASURE SEVEN

Rhythm/Tempo

If you pay attention correctly,

it won’t matter if you’re in another room or in

another state, you’ll still be able to feel the pulse.

I woke up with a headache. Trying to assimilate all the new knowledge was taxing my brain. Although I was tired, sleep had eluded me for the majority of the night. I was so excited about what I was learning that I couldn’t get it off my mind. Anytime Michael introduced a new idea, it sparked another one. This new idea would then spark yet another one, and so on. My brain, not wanting to waste time with sleep, caused me to stay up later than I was used to. I’m sure it was all part of his design.

I went to the kitchen to get myself a glass of orange juice. Most people start their day with a cup of coffee, but me, I have to have a glass of orange juice. I’ve never had a taste for coffee or alcohol, but if they ever start an Orange Juicers Anonymous organization, I will have to be the president. I opened the refrigerator and it was empty—no orange juice. I would have to go to the nearest store if I was going to get my fix.

It was early, at least for me. If I were the type to wear pajamas, I would’ve still been wearing them. Instead, I wore my usual sweat pants and t-shirt. Normally, I don’t like going out first thing in the morning because ‘first thing in the morning’ starts about four hours later for me than it does for other people. When the sun is almost straight overhead, people expect you to at least look like you’ve been awake for a while.

I’d only been gone for about twenty minutes, so you can imagine my surprise when I walked back into my house and saw a little boy sitting on my couch holding my bass guitar. Believe it or not, my first instinct was to apologize for the mess, but then I remembered that he was just a little boy.

I looked around to see who he was with and found it puzzling that he was alone. I didn’t know what to think. He looked like a nice kid, short and skinny with dark hair that was both bushy and wavy. He also wore glasses. It was obvious to me that both his pants and shirt were ironed and his shoes were spotless, unlike the beat-up sneakers most kids his age wore. He looked like the geeky kid who gets picked on in school.

The kid watched me with a smile on his face as I continued to look him over, trying to figure him out. He didn’t appear to be lost. He just sat there with the confidence of someone who knew where and who he was. For some reason, I also felt that he was where he was supposed to be. Kindness, no—politeness, if there is a difference, seemed to radiate from him.

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