Love Song

The click-clacking of the train as it steadily moved forward told me that I was getting closer to my destination.

As I tried to get comfortable on the wooden train bench seat, I thought of Joe. We had been dating for a few months, and when he asked me to visit him and meeting his parents in South Texas, I knew I had to go. There was one problem, no money for the train ticket.

My clarinet teach from the Houston Symphony Orchestra, after hearing my problem, looked at my three-hundred dollar Conn clarinet. "I'll pay you", he offered, "fifty dollars for your horn." Yearly tryouts in the school band had always given me the honored rank of Solo First Chir Clarinetist. I had recorded marches and won medals. Music had become apart of me. I did not want to sell my clarinet.

Remembering the train ticket, my reluctant answer had been "Yes...that will be...fine." I knew that I must part with the clarinet. I would never part with Joe.

The train slowly rolled into the station early that morning. Joe stood waiting for me. When our eyes met, I knew at that moment a million clarinet marches had ceased for one never-ending love song.