Kinderszenen, Op. 15 no. 11 - Robert Schumann

Hi there👋 I'm Noah Vazquez, a baker and collaborative pianist based in Cincinnati. I created the Program Notes Project for others to share their stories and help introduce classical music to more people. You can find my work on Medium @programnotes or follow the project @programnotesproject on Instagram.

Frightening

He was going to do it— he had to do it! He could have asked his sister, but she wasn’t the one helping out with dinner today. He needed to make it count, this humble role of sous-chef (not usually important enough to take him away from his own adventures) the biggest accomplishment in all his five years and four months waiting for a chance to help make this, the king of all meals, his Papa’s famous lasagna.

But that meant he had to go down there.

Down all fifteen steps (even the wobbly one, four from the bottom).
He’d have to open the door, feel the cold air and all that darkness rush to greet him and swallow him whole. He could already feel the tendrils lurking, waiting to grab him right as he looked up to reach for his prize; second rack from the left, middle shelf.
Even when he had been down there with Mama that one time, he could feel the uncanny chill down his spine, eyes peering at him from every corner where the light didn’t quite reach.

This time would be different, he told himself. Why should he, with all the wisdom and strength accumulated since his fifth birthday, still be shuddering at the dark like some little kid? It would be his proudest moment, returning to the kitchen, against his sister’s and even his father’s expectations, like a brave knight having slain a dragon!
And even if something did happen down there, he was quick— better yet, smart! He could surely escape whatever came after him, whatever thing lived down behind the shelves, waiting for him to come tiptoeing down the stairs, waiting to snatch him and drag him into the darkness and...and— Enough!

Screwing his eyes shut in determination, he broke into a run, rushing down toward the basement door, taking the stairs two at a time. Flinging the door open, his hand darted straight for the light-switch, just up and to the left around the corner, ready to banish the darkness from his surroundings. He fumbled for it; it should be so close, up just a little higher—

He could feel the darkness closing in around him, the tingle of something starting to creep up his legs, drawing him into the depths of the house where he would be lost forever. He gasped for air, his hand clambering at the outlet in a final attempt as he began to lose hope.

With the gentle hum of electricity, the bright florescent bulb comes tinkling on, casting long shadows between the shelves and illuminating for the boy his own awkward stance, pressed against the wall, hand still grasping at light switch. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, he walks over to the rack with all the cans and jars, second from the left, coolly grabbing the frontmost can of San Marzano tomatoes, perfect for his and his Papa’s dinner. Flipping the light back off he strolls upstairs. The father, waiting patiently, takes the can, tousles his hair and they set off to work as on any other evening.

Written March 2021