He had practiced every week.

He had learned to listen when other players needed time.

He had also learned to accept correction without confusing it with rejection.

Autumn joined him for the second piece, singing a lively song about a school day full of misplaced textbooks, strange lunch combinations and a fire drill that interrupted a math quiz.

The audience laughed.

It was the kind of song two friends could have written without any extraordinary event bringing them together.

As I listened, I thought back to that Tuesday morning when two officers had stood on our porch.