THE MUSICAL-TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK...

Upon entering the driveway, I noticed something immediately. Bright terra cotta pots ascended the cement retaining wall along the driveway. “That’s really weird,” I sighed in exasperation, with a sad shake of my head. “Dad’s finally going crazy.” Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as all of that, I reassured myself. Maybe he bonded with mother earth while we were away, and he developed a deep-seeded admiration of the delicate balance human beings have to strive for to maintain the pristine world around us. No, after careful consideration, those flower pots painted a pretty clear picture of insanity with broad strokes.

Kendall’s mom turned off the van, and we slid the large door open, and ambled out. Kendall helped my brother and me with our suitcases and sleeping bags, and moments later, we said our goodbyes. “See you at church tomorrow, Ken.” I waved, and picked up my stuff. It jostled against my leg, as I prepared myself for the image that was bound to greet me, as I cast a sidelong look at the flowers. My now-crazy, plant-loving father would probably be squawking like a duck in the living room.

When I opened the front door, my brother and I saw something completely different. My mouth gaped and eyes bulged in astonishment. My dad was sitting on the couch, not fondly caressing the leaf of a chrysanthemum, but instead had his arm wrapped around my mother’s. They turned and smiled at the both of us.

“Hi, boys,” my mom said cheerfully.
I continued staring, and when I regained my senses, I replied. “Hey. When did you get back?”
“A couple of days ago.”
“Are you staying?” I asked.
“Yes.” She smiled broadly. My face split in to a grin. Joy pulsated through my body in radiating waves. A faint rhythmic beat tumbled towards my ears. It spiraled up the street, at first as a tremulous whisper, and gathered speed until it was roaring like a windstorm at the front of my house. I know I been imagining it, because as I flitted to the open window of our living room to find the source of the noise, something astonishing greeted me. A marching band was cued up in the street. Their uniforms were a deep grenadier red, with double point waists, and trefoil sleeves. Their helmets had enormous, white plumes, and in their hands, at least 200 men and woman held gleaming, brass trombones, handsome clarinets, or large drums.

I waved at one of the trombone players. He nodded his head and whispered something to the players around him. and they began to play. Something propped against the wall near the front door caught my eye. A gleaming, chrome baton, that hadn’t been there moments before, was waiting for someone to pick it up.

Looking at my family, I grasped the baton in my hand. This seemed trigger an amplification in the music outside. It burst through the closed door with ringing clarity; it swelled in my mind, and rose effervescently in my chest. It spilled in to the house, filling it like gas, until everyone in my family was smiling as a result. Their hands and feet tapped to the cadence. The concentrated happiness that began at seeing my mom back finally forced its way from my body. I laughed hysterically until my stomach hurt, and my eyes swam with tears. I motioned to my family to rise. My parents stood, positively beaming, and fell in line behind me. My brother and sister followed suit, and soon, we began marching towards the front door in unison to join the celebration outside.

Confetti was thrown in to the air as we made our exit, and the full force of the ragtime melody hit us with the force of a semi truck. My family swaggered down the front steps, and I watched in wonder as the inhabitants of the houses surrounding our own, streamed from their front doors, marching in time. An assembly of people gathered around the band.

I paused a moment and surveyed the carnival-like atmosphere my family’s joy had created. Small children laughed and clapped as they watched in amazement as acrobats performed aerial feats high above them, suspended on telephone wires. Grown men and woman ran to greet my family with enormous smiles, holding aloft banners that read, “Welcome Home, Karen!” and “Glad to Have You Back!” Balloons held my attention momentarily as they flew in to the sky, only to be diverted seconds later to an airplane writing the words, “SHE’S HOME!” with incandescent clouds.

The atmosphere finally overwhelmed me, and I bolted from the street in a blur of movement. I seemed to catch everyone’s attention as I leapt up the cement retaining wall, sidestepping the newly potted plants along the way. Along the uppermost step, someone had placed a small trampoline in a divine moment of serendipity. I charged it and jumped. It allowed me to perform a perfect 360-degree, midair summersault, and I landed neatly on the top of the garage with the dull thud of sneaker meeting vinyl. The sound had driven all others away, and as I turned to look at everyone’s faces, I found they were already staring at me. Absolute silence filled the scene, until, perhaps sensing what was about the happen, everyone began slapping their knees and the tuba players created a steady beat. I bent my knees in time to the tempo.

“Friends,” I smiled, as I sang with a force only a nine year old could summon.
“We might all be strangers here,
Behind closed door you might not know what you failed to see.
For the last eight months you’ve been unaware of my domestic catastrophes.
I’m talking ‘bout the loss of dear old mom in my brand new home.
I had trouble (“Trouble, trouble,” the crowd whispered, raising their arms),
I say trouble, she was living with Willie
That was trouble with a “D,”
What could it be?
I mean divorce!
I surely had trouble (“Trouble, trouble”),
She was livin’ with Willie (With Willie?!).
With Willie!” I added emphatically, pumping my fist. “Surely none of you would disagree.”
With my knees continuing to bob, I made a sweeping gesture with an outstretched finger, pointing at the disconcerted mob.
“Now, before you all get worried, I’m glad to say they’ve reconciled
My world’s intact; my mother’s back, she’s with my dad!
For the next eight months, and maybe more, there’ll be no fights behind closed doors
Because my dear old mom is finally home.
I had trouble, my friends, right here.
I say trouble she was living with Willie.
That was trouble with a “D,”
What could it be?
I mean divorce!
I surely had trouble,

Gasping for breath, I shouted the last line, “But, now it’s gone, because she’s home!
Laughter and applause rent the still air. The women were crying and the men were clapping vigorously.
I paused, and spun in place, overtaken with joy, and fell backwards. Wind rushed past my ears momentarily, until I was caught with a gentle nudge, born on the arms of my neighbors. When they set me down, I continued, “It’s a brand new day, and I’m glad to say—” The noise reached a frenzied pitch, as the marching band began to part down the middle like the red sea, and through it came a float carrying my mother and father. They were waving and smiling. Laughter errupted from my mother as she caught my eye. She took a breath and finished my song, I'm finally HOME!