Falmouth Academy Resonance 2020-21

Blackbird

I have never been particularly fond of The Beatles. Jack was obsessed with them for a while, before he got into Hamilton, and he had me listen to some of their songs. They were fine. However, there was one that really stuck out to me. Blackbird. It has been interpreted in different ways: as a love song, as a nature song, or as a metaphor for the civil rights struggle. But at the root of this song, I hear something familiar: a feeling of yearning, a thirst for the things you want but know will never come to be. I listen to this song often now. After Emmie’s funeral and the events that transpired afterwards, this song is sometimes the only thing I can hold on to, to trust in these days of uncertainty. *** Two weeks earlier

“Again! This is NOT how the piece is supposed to be interpreted. Please keep the notes gentle when they are in stepwise motion. Remember, try to make the first movement more...deep.” My music teacher had become more invested in this than I thought.

“I don’t want it to be deep, I want it to be PERFECT! It has to be. For me. For Emmie. For her parents.”

I couldn’t think anymore. The stress from being caught up in the aftermath of Emmie’s death was taking a toll on my mental health. The fact that I had to learn a sonata in one day didn’t help. I was going to play it at Emmie’s funeral because it was her favorite song. “And the fact that I know the accompaniment doesn’t help me now because I have to play the melody! I don’t know anyone who can play it for me.”

“Kenzy! Stop shouting. I will help you learn it if you shut up!”

“But I have to master this piece before the funeral.”

“Remind me when that is?” Joy inquired for the third time that morning.

“Five o’clock. Sunset.”

“Well, you didn’t wake me up at six in the morning for nothing, I hope! Let’s get to work.” That’s what I liked about Joy. She was a very down-to-earth, matter-of-fact person, just like me. My parents describe it as ‘brutally honest,’ and my brothers describe it as ‘mean.’ Just then, my dad swept into the room.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt the beautiful music, but I just have to make sure this dress fits Kenzy. She wasn’t able to go shopping with me, but I tried to get a purple dress that matches her hair.” I hate dresses. I really hate them. And he was holding up a hideous, ruffly one that looked like it had black tulle sticking out of the bottom and a gigantic purple bow in the back. It did match my hair, but that is the only nice thing I will say about it. I think Joy had the same opinion. She grimaced when she saw it, but then gave me a look that said, I know you hate it, but c’mon. Just put it on to make your dad happy. You can rant to me about it later.

I did. It was terrible and the tulle tripped me five times when I tried to walk around in it. But it did fit.

And just when I thought the morning couldn’t get any worse, my brothers walked in. Tyler and Miles looked at me like I was the most hilarious thing they had ever seen. They did a terrible job of stifling their giggles and promptly fled the room. Dad rushed after them and gave them a big talking-to about ‘respecting your sister’.

But of course, two brothers didn’t do justice to the sheer amount of bad luck I experienced that morning. Noah opened the door.

“Kenzy? Where are my Legos? Have you seen them?” And then he saw me. “Kenzy!” Or, more precisely, my dress. “It’s terrible!”

“I know!” I yelled. “I know. Yeah. And I have to wear it to Emmie’s funeral. I’m sure she wouldn’t approve. But it’s all my fault anyway, so why don’t I just annoy her a little more?” My dad, hearing our conversation, ran in to set things right.

“Kenzy-girl. We’ve talked about this. It’s time to forgive yourself.” But he knows that there will always be a shadow of thought in my mind. Did I do something wrong? Did I imagine something that wasn’t there?

Does she understand how I feel? Did she? My dad left, and Noah spoke again. He whispered, really.

“It wasn’t your fault. Kenzy. It wasn’t.”

“I know, Noah. Go play with Miles. I’m sure he’s stolen your legos.” My brother raced out.

“MILES! Why did you take my Legos? They’re MINE!” My dad often tells me, ‘Don’t create tension 16