The years didn’t treat me kindly after my sister left. I felt like I was just going through the motions, living my life as a routine or a chore. I felt like I was waiting for something. It was always worst in spring. As the world grew warmer around me, some deep longing and dissatisfaction grew in my chest, making me restless and ill at ease. It was on just such a day, sitting in the garden and looking despondently at the tulips blooming in the flowerbed, that I finally started moving once again. A pair of children ran past me, shouting and laughing excitedly. Because the Spring Fair had arrived. Without even thinking, I got out of my seat and set off through the woods. I didn’t know where it had set up this time, but I hadn’t walked long when I heard the strains of music in the distance. I sped up, pushing through the fresh leaves of the underbrush with no care for how it stained my clothes. I had to get to the fair. I finally arrived in a large clearing ringed by maple trees. They were covered in clusters of little yellow-green flowers that filled the air with their honey-sweet scent. The music of the fair mingled with the gentle drone of the bumblebees, lending a soft, warm, almost dreamlike feeling to the whole area. I felt like I was fast asleep. I felt like I was waking up. I felt like I was a child again, and I felt like I was finally moving on. A familiar sound snapped me out of my daze. The soft, airy tones of a bone flute being played. My heart pounded in my chest as I pushed and shoved my way to the central stage… And there I saw her. My sister, standing with the rest of the band, playing her flute like she had when I was little. She didn’t look a day older than the last time I saw her, and a crown of flowers still sat atop her head. Not thimbleweed this time, but a riotous array of colourful spring flowers carefully woven and bound together with string. I simply stood there spellbound, unable to look away as she performed. Sometimes she played, sometimes she sang, sometimes she twirled and danced with the lady of the fair. Every so often her eyes would meet mine, and I could see the recognition in her eyes. And she smiled at me, a smile of welcoming warmth that seemed to fill me up, to lift my spirits like they hadn’t been for years. She didn’t say a word to me, but she didn’t need to. I understood. For the first time since the day she left, I felt like I understood everything. I left the fairground that evening with a spring in my step. My cold confusion had cleared like the morning mists, replaced by a deep warmth that shone within me like a sun. I understood, now. I knew exactly what I had to do. I had a purpose. And the very next day, I would buy myself a fiddle.