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My name is Cerady Beltan, and I am seventeen years old. I have been playing the violin for approximately ten years now, and I have my family to thank for it. My Mother is a fashion designer and my Father is an archaeologist. It gets a little lonely these days because my Father is mostly in Egypt for work, and my Mother is usually at her office tending to her clients.

My Mother has always been into fashion design, years before I was even born. My Mother met my Father at a café in Paris while my Mother was there on an internship. My Father was in Europe traveling the world while his parents were still funding him. He told me the only way his family allowed it, was because he told them he was ‘in search for his destiny’.

As fate would have it, my Mother and my Father met again in the USA five years later. My Father till this day claims that my Mother was his inspiration to travel to Egypt, where he finally found what he was looking for. The five years they were apart, both of them went through intense schooling. My Mother became the fashion designer she had wanted to be, finally able to work for herself; and my Father finished his degrees in Archaeology and Anthropology.

Before long they were married, and then a year after the marriage, I came along. My Mother was twenty-four years old, and my Father was twenty-five years old. I was born in New York, USA, and lived there until I was seven years old. At the age of seven my Father left to Egypt, his first real career offer that integrated on-site training. Around this time my Mother felt it necessary to move away from New York, to expand her career as well.

So at the age of seven, we moved to Florida. At the time, Florida did not suit my taste much, and without my Father, I grew bored. This is when I picked up my first real love: the violin.

My Father had left, and I hoped everyday that he would return to us soon. At first he promised it would only be a few weeks, but weeks turned into months, and months into years… now I am getting ahead of myself.

Gradually, Mother and I grew lonely. At an attempt to spend time with me she took us out for a musical concert. It was here that I would understand such beautiful melodies for the first time.

I remember watching the musicians come out one by one, then play a song as a whole. “How amazing,” I thought, to be able to orchestrate such a large scale symphony. They continued all night with numerous numbers, and they hit all of them with perfection. After they finished their huge ensembles, they separated for new numbers as pairs. The first and second pairings were nice, but they were nothing compared to the duet between a violinist and a pianist.

The violinist and the pianist played splendidly. The notes were spilling out in such a smooth and serene sensation. The high parts were never too piercing, and the low parts were never too blunt. In my eyes, the two musicians shined as bright as Polaris in the midnight sky.

I learned that day that music was so much more than I knew. It wasn’t just something we hear, but it’s something that we feel. Could you imagine going to a theatre and lasting through the entire movie without background music?

Music creates a setting, music sets a mood, music encourages emotion, and that is what makes it beautiful. How scary would it really be to look into a darkened room without the eerie background music and a thumping heart? How exciting is it to see someone ride a bicycle without the happy upbeat music in the background to make it feel enjoyable?

When was the last time you can recall listening to any type of music? How about music without vocals? If you cannot recall, it doesn’t surprise me. We’ve grown so accustom to the sound of music in the background that we’ve left it neglected and underappreciated.

We hear music all the time, whether you realize it or not. We hear it in department stores, while on hold during a phone conversation; we hear it in elevators, over the radio, during commercials, within television shows, and so many other places.

I admire music, and on that day, in that instant, I admired those musicians so much that it almost hurt. I wanted to know what they were thinking as they played their notes. Were they sad? Were they happy? Were they confused or displeased? Or are they even thinking at all?

Then it hit me just as it had before. It’s the feeling, again, back to emotions. “I want to play” I thought. Not just because it sounds so beautiful, but because I want to express myself as they did.

I want to express myself in such a way that words are not even possible. I want everyone to feel the rush and sorrows within my music, just as those moments are in life. I want them to feel my ups and downs, my twists and turns, my hopes and fears, and the understanding that all of us are more alike than we know, and yet so very different.

And although all of those things are more than qualified to be reasons to play, I have an even better one: for my Father. Just as anyone can dedicate something to someone else, I want to dedicate my music to my Father. Even though he is so far away, I want my music to reach him; I want my feelings to reach him.

That’s how it all started. My Mother supported me through it all, and my Father was my inspiration. At the age of seven I picked up the violin, and never put it down. I practiced pieces of other’s until I could make them my own. So when the day finally comes, the day I can see him again, I’ll be prepared. I’ll be able to play for him with my soul, and I hope that I can reach to his heart, just as the musicians reached to mine that day.

iii – Cerady's Melody (Behind the Character)