The Music of the Wind
2Rs4Fun is a writing program for young students that takes place at the Shelter Island Library. During the school year, the program matches young students with adult mentors who help guide them in the writing process. The program, founded by retired teacher Mary Dwyer, culminates in the publication of a journal filled with the students’ writing and artwork. This piece, by Elsie Brigham, age 10, was shared with the Reporter courtesy of 2Rs4Fun mentor Roger McKeon. Elsie also created the accompanying illustration.
BY ELSIE MAE BRIGHAM
Wind is quiet in some places, but in others it is something special. Like a whistle. But I don’t think I could describe it. Sometimes, when Lyng closed her eyes, she could almost hear the wind singing to her. As the daughter of the Village Head she was expected to train, not to play music. She loved sitting on Heiwa rock though, on the corner of Yangin river, by Yokoto, a village right next to the bamboo forest.
The rock was next to water and the water was where the cormorants sat in the morning. Lyng realized that the cormorants’ call almost blended with the wind. When the wind sang, Lyng felt at ease. She did love her village, but she hated when the wind didn’t whistle on certain nights. Lyng didn’t know why the wind didn’t sing on those nights.
She had read about princesses with long hair who could sing beautifully. But she didn’t need to be those princesses, she had the wind.
Her father wanted her to be a part of the village court and be their next Village Head. But Lyng just wanted to listen to the wind. “Maybe if I show them the whistling of the wind blending with the cormorants’ call,” she thought. Lyng knew her father and the village: they liked tradition, and that was not going to change. Maybe she could run away from home? She couldn’t decide. What if she left the village? She might find the music she was looking for. A place where the wind always whistles.
Lyng did love her village, and didn’t want to leave. Maybe she could just stand up to her father. Lyng thought that was the best idea. She stayed up all night thinking of what to say. Finally she had an idea. She took action the next day.
In the morning, Lyng woke up, put on her most colorful clothes, not waiting for her assistant to dress her. She always wore dark blues and other dark colors, but today she dressed herself up in a yellow shirt and green skirt. Carefully, she put her hair up in a braid, which was bizarre because she would usually only wear her hair up in a bun.
She had left a note for her father
