Saturday, February 28, 2026

The last performance

 His grandson pushed the wheelchair into the theater. Plush crimson seats lined the space, now threadbare from countless performances. The musty air faded beneath the voices of legends, whose lifelong dream was to stand on that stage and sing.

Golden rope draped around the velvet drapery, a background for the performer to stand looking out at the smiling faces of the well-to-do awaiting his first performance.
Behind the curtains, a small group of people, mostly family, stood quietly smiling with thumbs up as the singer, the son, the brother, and best friend took center stage amid the tuning of the orchestra, now ready to begin.
He was just a young man that first night, but his voice was one of a master whose music was set in stone. He looked out into the bright lights, and the faces looking back showed their approval, wanting more as he walked off the stage. And he returned.
Ready, Grandpa, his grandson asked. He nodded his head and took one last look at his past, hearing his own voice softly sing as the lights went out and the dusty curtains fell for the last time.
Mike 2026                                              

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