Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

When we get to Melody’s house, no one is home except her dog. I scratch the black-and-white terrier, named Bo, behind the ears, and he wags his tail.

Melody leads me to her bedroom. It’s small, but it holds three beds: she shares with her sister Lila, and Vonnie moved across the hall to Dwayne’s old room, so I can sleep in Vonnie’s bed.

Lila’s fourteen and starting at a private school this fall. She and Mommy are out buying textbooks. Melody’s brother, Dwayne, calls Lila “Miss Bookworm” because she’s always reading. I notice a stack of books by her bed, a worn copy of The Secret Garden next to a book by Langston Hughes.

I point at The Secret Garden and say I’ve read it. Melody says it’s one of her all-time favorites. She loves gardens, and her grandpa, Poppa, says she got her green thumb from him.

Poppa grew up on a farm in Alabama, and the family visited him last month. I ask if the trip was fun. Melody says so much happened. They stayed with her mom’s Aunt Beck and saw a lot of cousins on the fourth of July, and everyone talked about how great it is that President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act, making it the law that Black people have to be treated equally.

Mommy says it’s what they’ve been marching for all this time. But not everyone is happy about the new law, and they had some scary experiences in Alabama too.

I ask Melody what she means. She pulls her knees to her chest and says everyone is talking about the three civil rights workers who disappeared in June. They were part of the Mississippi Summer Project, like Yvonne. White people complained and had police arrest them, and now they’ve vanished.

While the family was in Alabama, they learned that Yvonne had been arrested too. I suck in my breath, Yvonne went to jail? Melody nods and says that’s how she broke her wrist. She tripped when the police arrested her, and Mommy and Papa had to get her out of jail the next day.

I don’t know what to say. I can’t understand why anyone would try to keep Black people from having equal rights. I want to tell Melody things are better now in the future, but a memory tickles the back of my mind.

My family went out to eat with Mr. Chapman, Dad’s campaign manager, who is also Black. When Mr. Chapman stepped outside, a White customer handed him his car keys. I tell Melody that story.

Melody doesn’t understand why the man handed over his keys, so I explain. He assumed Mr. Chapman was a valet just because he’s Black, not a dinner guest himself. Dad says things like that still happen a lot. Melody shakes her head. It’s not fair, it’s discrimination to treat someone differently because of the color of their skin.

Then Melody hops up and says that’s why Yvonne says they have to do something, to make it better even in Detroit. I like that Melody isn’t afraid to try, even though she’s young like me, and that makes me want to help too.

At dinner, I see Yvonne again, along with Lila and their parents. Melody’s parents are kind of like mine. Her mom is a teacher, like Mom used to be before she became principal, and her dad works at a car factory and is gone a lot, just like mine. The rest of her big family is different, though. When she and her sisters talk, the whole room fills with voices and laughter, never this noisy at my house.

After dinner, I watch Lila braid Melody’s hair while Yvonne, curled up on the bed, gives instructions. Music pipes out of the radio on the headboard, Motown, Melody calls it, and her foot taps along to the beat. Yvonne laughs and tells her to sit still, she’s making it hard for Lila. Lila says she’s getting better at braiding, but still not quite as good as Yvonne. Melody asks when Yvonne’s wrist will heal. Yvonne shakes her head, not soon enough.

I’m dying to ask Yvonne about her wrist and the arrest, but that’s not polite. Instead, I ask if it hurts. Yvonne shakes her head. Not too much, and when it does, she reminds herself how it happened, which makes her mad enough to forget the pain. She smiles, but I know she means it.

Melody says she’s so brave, she wishes she could be as brave as her sister. Yvonne touches Melody’s toes and says she is brave too. Anyway, Yvonne wishes she could sing as well as Melody.

Melody laughs and yanks her foot away. Lila chips in that they should both wish they were as smart as her. Melody and I laugh, though Lila doesn’t seem to appreciate it. Yvonne says Lila is smart. Mommy says they’ve all got their own lights to shine.

At that, Melody catches Yvonne’s eye, and the sisters erupt into song: “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.” I know this song! They keep singing until Lila finally gives up and lets go of Melody’s hair, adding her own high soprano, and I jump in for the last line. Melody stands up and says we should sing it in rounds, then picks up Bo and dances him around the room. When she sings, he adds two barks right on beat. We sing, laugh, and bark our way through a whole round until someone raps on the door.

Melody’s mom pokes her head in, and Melody laughs that we’re just doing our sister-thing, what Dwayne calls it.

This sister-thing is so fun. I wish these girls were my sisters too. I already feel a little like each of them, reading like Lila and loving music like Melody, and I hope someday I’ll be as brave as Yvonne.

Later, lying in Yvonne’s old bed, I feel a pang of homesickness like I always do at sleepovers. But then I hear Melody’s daddy snoring down the hall, Yvonne talking on the phone downstairs, and Bo scratching at his collar at the foot of the bed. The sounds blend together like music, and it was music that brought me here to Melody. I hum “This little light of mine” in my head, remembering the sister-thing, and I don’t feel homesick anymore.