My clarinet was beautiful. It was a black, teak instrument with shining keys. I would swab the inside of the tube with small square soft cloths. I kept it safe with a fragrant oil. The case had red leather on it with little brass feet. When I opened the case, the smell was powerful and always reassuring. The interior of the case was a red soft fur-like material. Each part of the clarinet had its own special place. Each section had to be placed precisely. When the case was closed and the clasps were clicked, the clarinet was safe
My sister, Elaine, gave me the clarinet as a gift.
The clarinet was from marked with the name, “Noblet” and was from Paris.
I bought Elaine a book, “The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám”.
A clarinet and a poem.
They live in my memory together.