Notes in the Rain

At school they had announced the end-of-year show, and every child in Bianca’s class had to perform a short musical piece. Philip would play the flute, Jade would sing, and even shy Mark would play the tambourine.

“I can’t make music,” Bianca told her grandmother Elsa that afternoon, flopping onto the sofa looking miserable. “I can’t sing, I can’t play anything. I have no musical talent at all.”

Outside, the sky had suddenly turned dark, and the first raindrops began drumming against the windowpanes.

“Come with me,” said Grandma, taking her by the hand and leading her into the kitchen, where she had just put the kettle on.

“But Grandma, it’s about to pour,” Bianca protested. “This isn’t the time to listen to the rain.”

“It’s exactly the right time,” Grandma replied, sitting down beside her near the open window.

The storm arrived in full force, and the rain began beating on the metal gutter outside the window, slowly at first, then faster and faster, in a rhythm that rose and fell.

“Listen,” Grandma whispered. “What does that sound like to you?”

Bianca closed her eyes for a moment, really listening for the first time.

“It sounds like… a drum,” she said softly, surprised. “A drum that goes fast sometimes, and slow other times.”

Just then, the kettle on the stove began to whistle, a long, high sound blending with the rhythm of the rain.

“And this?” Grandma asked, smiling.

“A flute,” Bianca laughed, opening her eyes. “A slightly out-of-tune flute!”

Outside, the wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the big tree in the garden, a light, steady swish joining in with the rest.

“The wind in the leaves,” said Bianca, this time without Grandma needing to ask. “It sounds almost like a choir singing softly.”

Grandma Elsa poured the tea, and the clink of cups and spoons joined the afternoon’s improvised music.

“You see?” said Grandma. “Music doesn’t only live inside a flute or a voice that sings well. It lives in the rain too, in the kettle, in the wind. You just have to learn to listen for it.”

Bianca stayed quiet for a moment, still listening to the rhythm of the rain on the gutter.

“Grandma,” she finally said, her eyes shining with a new idea, “I think I know what to bring to the show.”

On the day of the show, while the other children played flutes and tambourines, Bianca walked onto the stage with an umbrella, a borrowed plastic gutter, and a small bottle of water. And for the first time, she showed the whole school the music hidden inside a rainy day.