Faith By Hope

The ticket fell from her dress pocket as she stepped from the crowded subway.
And yet no one noticed.

The radio played a soft, heart-wrenching tune, sad, strong vocals, gentle melodic instruments.
And yet they all kept on laughing.

The notebook was old and worn, a Raggedy Anne sibling no doubt, filled with amazing words and prose.
And yet the people of the city just walked on.

The young girl had reached the venue and was preparing to pull out her ticket, oblivious to the fact that it was no longer there.
She reached the gates, slipped her hand into her pocket, and came up with air.
Needless to say, she was promptly thrown out onto the cold New York City Street.

Over three hours she had traveled to see this one show, because she simply could not miss it.
Her parents’ hotel was almost 20 blocks away, and they were currently having dinner.
She was completely and utterly alone.

From inside, she heard the sound of chants and screams as the opening band came on stage, yelling and cheering, playing their hearts out.
She couldn’t help but smile, for she was fond of them as well.

As the thousands of citizens walked along the cold city streets, the radio still played its song.
Over and over, its melody rang through the smoggy air, fogged from the clouds people’s breath made in the dawn of winter.
Slowly but surely, the leaves had all been stripped from the few trees that rested in the city, and the temperature dropped so subtly, you had no idea until you woke up one day and realized it out of the blue.

The radio had been witness to all of this.
It had been witness to the transition of spring to summer.
Watched as the children littered the streets during hours of the day where adults were stuffed in their overly air-conditioned offices 45 stories into the air.

And through all of this, the same song filled the air.
Hot or cold, humid or dry, it was always there.
But of course, no one noticed, for it was just a song.
Just a sad, sad song.

The bitter wind blew through the air, turning the unprotected cheeks and noses of the pedestrians numb, leaving them scrambling on the sidewalks, eager to get inside the warm, cozy buildings.
Gray clouds noticeably blanketed the sky in a split second, and in another, rain started pouring down.

The crinkled pages of the notebook flapped in the breeze, protected by a dark green awning that hung over a store window, hosting dozens of different kinds of glass vases, all different colors and shapes. They were taunting the little Raggedy Anne with their sheen of warmth and protection.

Lightning split the sky in two as thunder came to pick up the pieces. The streets had been deserted.
Through the windows, the shocked round faces stared at the sky in disbelief.
This was not normal weather for this city.
And yet the notebook had seen it all.

The man watched as this all unfolded.
He watched the ticket fall from the red and black silk dress.
He watched the people pass by as he heard the radio’s melodic depression.
And he watched as the notebook put itself out into the world, only to be ignored.

As he was walking down the street, a slip of paper found itself beneath his shoe.
Curiosity got the best of him as he bent down to read the slightly smeared ink.
He smiled as he placed the ticket into his pocket, changing his direction completely.

The girl smiled sadly as the first supporting act left the stage.
I’m just that much closer to missing this.

The second act filed onto the stage and she jumped at the amazingly familiar voice.
And as they started to play, she danced on the sidewalk, in her own world, her own pit.

The man, who’s face was now lightened of his frown lines, passed the radio in a rush, before stopping dead still to listen, it’s repeated melody grabbing him by the shoulders and setting him in invisible concrete.
Hands shaking, tears threatening to spill, he picked up the radio and tucked it beneath his arm, listening to the song repeat over and over again.

In the shadows, a girl smiled warmly, as her message had been heard.

As the clouds broke and pummeled the sidewalks with their tears, the notebook still sat unnoticed.
It’s pages still flapped in the wind, but no longer as lightly, for they were weighed down with the sadness of the words and the rain.
It’s invisible chains.

But as the man passed, the slow, sad fluttering of paper filled his mind, bringing back memories.
He walked over and did the same as he did with the radio; tuck it gently beneath his arm, reading the dripping ink as his eyes permitted him, and walked on.

The girl’s eyes opened and were met with a black sky. There weren’t even stars in this city.
The venue was silent as they waited. She waited.

The man was running, full-on sprint. For miles, you could see the large TV screen that showed the concert, and he knew he was losing time.

She sighed and sat back down on the sidewalk, burying her face in her denim clad knees, thanking her friend for her suggestion to wear jeans beneath the dress she had made for this one night. As the arena went silent from anticipation, hot tears started to push themselves through her lashes.

He raced around the corner like a drag racer, using a street lamppost to swing himself around and keep his footing on the slick cement. The rain had stopped but the air had grown colder. The radio was digging into his side; still singing it’s soft tune. The notebook was playing along with its rattling pages and broken spine.

Slowly but surely, the time was starting to approach that she had been waiting for her entire life.
To see the people she admired the most, in real life.
And slowly but surely, she was missing it.

Sniffing, she pushed herself onto her feet, staring up at the large screen, watching the empty stage with yearning. Out of a last minute moment of desperation, she dug her hands into all of her pockets, coming up empty handed.

“Hey, is this your ticket?”
The man had made it and was now breathing heavily from his run as he pulled out the mentioned slip and inched it toward her, unsure if she was going to scream or not.

Her eyes lit up at the man who was carrying her ticket.
Yes, it was her ticket.

“Thank you, thank you!”
The man smiled as she jumped around, hugging the ticket to her chest before stopping to look at the screen.

“Go on, enjoy your night.”
Her smile grew wider as she wrapped her arms around his frail waist before running away, waving gratefully back at him. Inside her heart was pounding at ninety miles an hour, hoping they would let her in.

The man smiled before walking away, hoping she would be let inside the arena. She deserved it.
As he walked, the radio kept playing its song, slowing his heartbeat.
The rustling pages of the notebook let him slip away into his long gone childhood, when he was just like then girl, waiting outside to see his heroes, despite losing a ticket.

He had realized that the people playing there at that legendary venue tonight were her heroes, and despite having never heard of them before, he knew they meant something.

Slowly, he stopped; looking up and smiling at the backstage doors, remembering the night so many years ago, that he had been here. Here to see his heroes, and to be one. To play, on that stage.

She had made it; she had wrestled her way through the crowds to find her way to the front of the stage, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. Not from struggle though, from amazement.

She had finally made it.
And the ghostly acoustic guitar that started filling the arena then only proved it.

That night, both she and the man cried.
For they had both experienced what they had been waiting for all their lives.

Keeping the faith.
At Madison Square Garden.