An extension of my arms, that is my cello. The gift I received from my rocker parents when I was five. Ironic as it may seem, dad and mom have accepted that my inherited musical ears are not for loud drum beats but for soft, melodic classics.
Since the beginning, they supported my dream—to play solo not in extravagant orchestra houses but in the glorious Olympic Stadium in Berlin.
My music classmates and even my teachers say that’s impossible, but their words are futile.
I only listen to my parents, who believed I can even I, myself, think I can’t.
Word count: 100 words
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: © CEAYR
In response to Friday Fictioneers prompt for 13 May 2016.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by the generous Fairy Blog-Mother Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction.