Her daddy didn't like jazz, and he didn't like her uncle.

"Never will my little Amina spend any time with that man," he said. The Mozart incident was bad enough--more than a man should have to endure, he said--but he said things in a much more colorful way. His comments about "Uncle Jazz" were also more flamboyant than any words you will see in this space. What can I say? When this daddy spoke, he lit up the room. If his wife's New Age cousin were to read his aura, it might look like this:

source: original photo art by @xpilar

Green is for harmony,

of course, and Amina's daddy lived for that. Gardening and good times with his immediate family were his balm in a world of strife. Even when he was chapped by life and the dregs of humanity, he knew how to pay it forward--but he also had a temper, and a bit of difficulty letting go of a grievance. "Flaming red" is how a lot of would-be aura readers might peg him because he kept his true self cloaked behind a wall of fire and ice.

Colorful. That, he was, and ever more shall be.

source

Disclaimer: THIS IS FICTION, never mind the purloined details pillaged from daily life!

He wasn't so different

from his brother-in-law, who was always cool and calm, fun and light-hearted, creative and artistic--but as uncles go, what a terrible role model. The jazz man was marginally employed, unmarried, uncommitted even to a lease on an apartment much less to a mortgage, and he lived like a nomad with no future because there is only the "now," a phrase as hackneyed and idealistic as his wife's cousin with her Tarot cards, auras, astrology, and herbal remedies.

Uncle Jazz colorful too, but if one aura dominated, his must be violet.

source

There came a day

when little Amina would risk exposure to her uncle. She had been duly inoculated with her father's music, and also--so sad to say!--with Baby Shark (doo-doo-doo-doot!) and Disney songs. Ah, but a father can only shelter his offspring for so long, and then the world beckons, and little ones will step forth and see what they can see.

Or hear.

Her parents were in a hospital

and she had nowhere else to go but Grandma's house. Nobody expected an appearance from Uncle Jazz. Lo and behold! The nomad happened to come home (surprise, surprise!) for the first time in years.

There was nothing a daddy could do, preoccupied as he was with mommy in the hospital and new baby on the way, and nobody was going to tell him until after the fact anyway....if even then.

Uncle Jazz and his minimal possessions arrived in the night in an SUV. His upright bass took up as much space as a bed might have, if this nomad cared to own a real bed. Home was wherever his bass could fit beside him, and he plucked those strings whenever he felt the call, which was most any time he was breathing.

The wood floors vibrated like a sounding board and the whole house became a living, breathing instrument when the jazz man came home again. He breathed life into a room, any room, anywhere he'd go. Life, color, laughter--it all came with the instrument and the man who played it. The rhythm of the strings pulsed like a heartbeat. Everything was more vibrant, vivid and glorious when the nomad showed up. Even a toddler with no vocabulary to articulate such things could sense the magic emanating from behind closed doors.

Little Amina opened those French doors and walked into the room. Nobody tried to stop her. She stared at the big wooden bass, those long, strong fingers pressing thick strings onto unmarked frets, the magic man making these sounds that filled her with the urge to dance. She didn't know any jazz moves but she knew she had to move, and groove, take it all in and let it all out, or she would burst like a supernova.

What would Daddy say?

Her uncle smiled and improvised a mellow and most-tolerable rendition "Baby Shark" for her, then gave her one of his favorite books, The Sound That Jazz Makes:

The Sound That Jazz Makes

She did not implode

after her exposure to that singularly non-toxic strain of jazz.

source

What can I say?

They all lived happily ever after!

We are all one,

we are all in this together, and whatever music we like (yes, even Mozart!), we are all made of stardust with the same elements and 99% matching DNA.

THE 99 PERCENT… OF THE HUMAN GENOME

Of the trillions of cells that compose our body...almost every one contains the same 3 billion DNA base pairs that make up the human genome....

Figure 1. The 46 chromosomes (top) that compose the entire human genome. Each chromosome (middle) is a long, continuous stretch of DNA sprinkled with genes that encode the information necessary to make a protein....(Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons; User – Plociam)

A big Thank You to @xpilar

for The image is made of own imagination and thoughts - competition 38 and to all supporters, upvoters and resteemers who make Steemit fun and adventurous!

#art #contest #drawing #imagination #creativecoin #palnet #competition #norway
#music #love #aura #peace