Last year, my brother bought a wind chime and hung it on our terrace. I was curious and asked him what that thing is. “These are tuned wind chimes, don’t you know it?” he replied. “No,” I said. “What’s that for?” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “I don’t really know either. I just like the beautiful sound. Here, listen.” He touched the chimes with his fingers and yes, beautiful it was. The sound of the chimes when the wind’s blowing softly felt like music from heaven to my ears. The terrace had been my favorite place since then. Reading, eating, doing my homework, or even napping, anything I could do there, I would do there.
Several months later, my brother died in an accident. It was shocking for my whole family, but all we can do, was praying for his peaceful rest. Ever since the accident, the sound of the chimes always reminds me of my passed brother. It is no longer beautiful, but rather, sad. I don’t like to hang around the terrace anymore, but somehow, I couldn’t remove the wind chimes. It’s still hanging on the terrace, and whenever the sad music comes out of it, I always think about my brother. “Brother, now I know what it is for. It’s there as a precious memento of you.”
