Remember

With bated breath I turn the crank and tighten the spring three times. The sequence is set, the gears in motion. Slowly the drum turns, and its pins begin to pull on the comb. At first it releases isolated notes, that seem to make no sense, until suddenly a simple melody is pulled from the reaches of my mind and its familiar tune draws a smile across my face. I remember. I was on the floor in the living room of my childhood home exploring the souvenirs of my father's travels. Each treasured music box touched a different point in time, a happy time when my life was lived not planned. Nothing like it is now: a series of Cognitive Behavioural strategies laced with Aripiprazole, Bupropion and Duloxetine. And yet, still, every once in a while, I hear a note, an isolated hope that seems to make no sense. I used to ignore it but now I tell myself to keep listening, to let it float to the reaches of my mind and maybe, just maybe I 'll finally remember the once familiar tune.