THE MELODY OF MY SOUL
Have you ever felt like you no longer want to live or that you lack a purpose?
And then... a special person manages to change everything.
If so, this story is for you.
How are you? I hope you're doing well. Today, I'm going to tell you a story—well, my story. I hope you enjoy it. But first, we should go back to the very beginning so you can understand it better.
When I was four years old... (Oh, such good memories.)
1) EPILOGUE
If I remember correctly, all of this happened when I was between 4 and 7 years old. Back then, during summer vacations, my 12-year-old brother and I would travel to Lima (Ancon). My father had bought a house there when we lived in Lima (exactly when I was a year old), and my grandparents lived there too.
However, when I turned four, we moved to Chiclayo for financial reasons. That's why we went back for vacations—out of nostalgia for our old home. My brother and I were the only ones who went to visit our grandparents; my parents and my other two siblings didn't like the place because of all the dust and sand.
I remember playing football in the streets with the local kids in Lima, even though I wasn't very good at it. But what I loved most about Ancon was playing in the sand. To me, playing in the sand was the most fun thing in the world.
The area where I lived was basically a desert, and there was sand everywhere—even today, since it's still not fully urbanized. In Chiclayo, I lived in the city center where there is no sand, so going back felt special.
The saddest part was always when the vacations ended and we had to return to Chiclayo. My brother didn't seem to mind much, but it broke my heart. I didn't like Chiclayo, and besides, being there meant being far away from my grandparents—the most important people in my life.
BACK IN CHICLAYO
When I returned from vacation, I was enrolled in kindergarten (or preschool, however you want to call it), as I had turned six that year. I remember my first day vividly. I was scared—terrified, actually. It was a new place, and my parents and siblings weren't there.
I felt lonely, sad, angry, and frightened. I even thought they hated me for leaving me in that place. But then I saw other children who were also scared and crying because they had been left alone too. To make matters worse, the teacher hadn't arrived yet, which made us even more anxious.
After a while, I calmed down and started talking to the other kids. I became friends with two girls who became my best friends in kindergarten.
ME: "Hi, how are you? What's your name?" — I asked timidly.
????: "Sniff, sniff... My name is... is... Dina. What's yours?" — she replied fearfully.
DINA: "Let's be friends from now on!" — she said, suddenly cheerful.
ME: "Yeah, I'd like that." — I replied with a smile.
Later, I met Sayuri, and the two of them became my inseparable group.
ME: "Hi, what's your name?"
SAYURI: "MY NAME IS SAYURI!"
ME: "Why aren't you angry or sad?" — I asked in amazement.
SAYURI: "Oh, that's because my grandmother is the teacher!"
DINA AND ME: "Wow, really? That's so cool!"
WEEKS LATER
There was an older boy in the classroom. I don't remember his name, but he liked one of my two friends. Since they always hung out with me, he started to resent me. He hated that I spent my time with the girls. I didn't care at first, until one day he started bullying me because I was smaller than him.
(Back then, "bullying" was just seen as rough play between friends until a fight broke out and someone stopped it.)
The boy approached me with a mocking smile: "Ha ha ha, you're such a little girl... playing with those two."
BULLY: "Ha ha ha! You're a little girl, only playing with them." — he spoke provocatively.
DINA: "Leave him alone! He's not doing anything to you!" — she replied fearlessly.
SAYURI: "Yeah! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"
I didn't defend myself because I was afraid of him; he was much bigger. I just told him to stop bothering me. I didn't even "like" my friends in that way. Seeing them support me only made him angrier.
One day, while we were all playing "Mata Gente" (Dodgeball), the teacher turned her back for a moment. He took the chance to hurl the ball at my face with all his strength. My face turned bright red, and I cried out in pain.
BULLY: "Oops, sorry. I didn't mean to."
TEACHER: "Apologize and promise you won't do it again... give each other a hug to make up."
BULLY: "I'm sorry..." — He hugged me, but he was clearly angry and squeezed me with force.
ME: "Sniff, sniff... I understand. I forgive you, but please don't do it again. It hurt a lot." — I replied, terrified.
DISMISSAL TIME
When almost everyone had left, Dina came up to me.
DINA: "You realized he hit you on purpose, right?" — she asked, confused.
ME: "Yup."
DINA: "Then why didn't you tell the teacher?"
ME: "If I said something, he would just bully me worse. Besides, I think he's in love with you... I don't know, I just think so."
DINA: "I don't like him. He's too rough and always looking for a fight. I prefer someone like you—someone kind and gentle who looks for peace instead of trouble."
ME: "I don't know... I just heard he felt something for one of you."
(At that moment, I thought she said that just because she was a good person. Boy, was I wrong!)
After that conversation, my brother came and took me home. At the house, my mother told me:
MOTHER: "I've enrolled you in violin lessons. You'll go every afternoon, except for Saturdays and Sundays."
ME: "Yes, Mom."
Later, on another day, that boy fought me again. I ended up badly beaten and covered in bruises. Even though I lost, the boy never returned to the daycare. I thought I would never see him again.
(Once again, I was very, very wrong.)
Time passed, I grew up and finished kindergarten. I improved at the violin and then moved on to primary school.
NEXT CHAPTER: THE ACCIDENT COMING SOON