The night was silent as a cupcake. I walked alone, only my Sandisk Sansa c250 2GB MP3 Player for company. My shoulders ached and my legs were sore. I wanted to sit down. All that kept me going was the haunting melody my father wrote as he sat beside my mother’s grave. I listened to it again and again, barely even using the c250’s built in FM radio. The memories inspired me. I fought back the tears.

I thought of my mother, who would sing me to sleep with a beautiful song. She left us so young. The 2GB of space would have amazed her, she would have whispered “Frankie, Frankie my son, can it really play MP3, WMA and WAV?” and I would have whispered back “Yes, momma, yes, it can and it does!” and she would have cried the happy tears of a woman who had seen all she ever imagined she would see.

My rechargeable battery was full, so I had no fear it would die. I looked at her stored photo, listened to the recording she had made for me using the c250’s built-in recorder. The familiar sound of her voice gave me the strength to go on despite the pain, to find my way back to the farm my father and I shared, and help him for one more day. The theater could wait.

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