PANE'S SYMPHONY



 No symphony, no orchestra, no concert. No love, no wedding, no future! Michael was so distraught he pulled the pillow over his face. 
Three months had disappeared so fast especially with the holiday right in the middle. He wouldn’t have missed that for the world. But Monday was Doomsday! He had no score. There was no symphony. Nothing to show from The Wunderkind. A disappointment to everyone that mattered.

Michael knew he'd be turned away, there’d be no wedding, his world would, for all intents and purposes, end. Yet still he must face the music, or lack of it, because he had that plane to catch. Maybe it would crash and he'd be saved.

Michael’s anxiety intensified as he waited for the flight; laptop on lap, so he hardly noticed the window washer working his way along the glass wall until he was almost right in front of him and his eye fell on the squeejy which so much resembled a baton as it apparently effortlessly removed the suds from the glass by soaring back and forth and up and down in an endless dance.

The way it moved was symbolic of everything. The flow was wasteless. Perfection, infinitely repeatable without straight lines yet ultimately enclosed within four bars.

“The theme was so very clean. Crystal clear. A reflection of everything” he mused as he drew it in the air with his baton before moving onto the laptop. Over and over the worker played out the drama as he moved away down the wall and Michael had already put together the main structure concentrating more than ever before on a single voice to express the motion of the words  and exaggerate the feeling by contrasting it with the surrounding disharmony of the airline terminal.

There would be an on-rush of energy that continued toward infinity to make the melody lines chase after each other forever. It need never end he chuckled as he switched off and scurried for the plane. Jerome will be so pleased!

And he surely was. As the father and rest of the family were. They talked weddings, music choices, places and Jerome seemed so proud of him. Of course the work was not yet complete, far from it, but he had the theme and most of the movements so a glimpse was enough for the present audience.

The date was set and he was the happiest man alive and who did he see again at the airport on the way home? The window washer coming in to work with a square bucket in one hand and a squeejy in the other. It took some effort to reach for his billfold but Michael felt really good when he tucked the fifty dollar note into the top pocket of the worker’s overalls as he walked by.

“Wow! My first tip. Those poofs aren’t so bad after all.” the worker thought to himself.