Once upon a time a very young boy lost the use of his voice. He was talking to his mother about pretzels and chocolate when words suddenly stopped coming out of his mouth. His mother would have panicked and rushed him to a specialist, but they were very poor and had no money for doctors. She did take him to see his great-aunt who knew all about herbs and fairies and things like that. She looked at him closely and told him softly that his voice had run away. It hadn’t been scared away; she was sure of that. But where his voice had been was just a note that said it would be gone for a while. His great-aunt gave him a tin whistle and sent him home.

The boy spent all summer learning to play that tin whistle. He became so good the birds would stop singing to listen to him play. The boy had a lot of time to himself while his mother was at work so he would sit in the alley behind his home and play his whistle. In his music he said all the things he used to say with his voice before it left. He used his music to talk to the birds about being lonely and being poor. He told the birds how many hours it was until his mother got home and what he hoped they would have for dinner that night. When his mother finally did get home from work he would sit in the kitchen and play to her while she made something for supper. She would smile at him between each song and tell him he played so well he took all her tiredness away and made her feel happy. They would eat dinner together and the boy’s mother would talk to him about her day and her job. He would listen very carefully and nod at all the right moments.

After his mother went to work the next day he would set the table and while he ate breakfast he would remember everything she had said at dinner the night before. He would pretend he had his voice back and that they could talk to each other. He would remember her words and imagine what he would have said to her. In his mind they had a wonderful conversation and he told his mother a joke that made her laugh until tears ran down her face. He told her what he was learning and what the birds said to him while he played. She held him tightly and told him he was a very smart boy and she was so glad he was her boy she wouldn’t trade him for a million dollars. And then the boy would finish breakfast and go sit in the alley with his whistle.

The summer ended and school started. The boy got put into a special class because the teacher assumed his hearing had left at the same time his voice had. The teacher in the special class tried to teach them how to talk with their hands, but he wasn’t any good at it and none of them learned very much. The songs the boy played behind the school during lunch were full of frustration.

One night, shortly after school started, the boy got up in the middle of the night to get some water. He found his mother sitting at the table crying. The small table was covered with papers. His mother tried to hide the papers before he could read them, but he was a very quick reader. Some papers were bills and other papers said his mother didn’t have enough money to pay them. One of the papers said that if they didn’t pay money soon they would have to leave their apartment. The boy’s mother wiped away her tears and got him some water. She gathered up all the papers and said that she would take care of it somehow and he didn’t have to worry about anything. The boy knew better, but he acted liked he believed her anyway. Then he got his whistle out and played for her until she smiled again. Then he hugged her tightly and went back to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day for him.

The next day dawned cloudy and heavy. The boy got up and got ready as if for school. He packed his lunch and ate breakfast while his mother hurried to get ready for work. As soon as she rushed out the door he grabbed his backpack, a wooden bowl and his whistle and headed out.

The boy walked a few blocks until he came to a city bus stop. He avoided the gaze of the bus driver as he boarded and settled in for the ride. A large, elderly woman sat next to him and starting speaking to him as soon as he sat down. She was on her way to see her grandchildren. The fourth one had just been born and this was the first time she would see him. At least, she thought the baby was a boy. Now that she thought about it she couldn’t remember if her daughter-in-law had said boy or girl. Oh well, the old lady continued, it was still exciting, wasn’t it?

The boy listened and nodded. He found the lady’s chattering was calming the herd of butterflies that was flapping around in his stomach. He usually didn’t like doing things like this, but if he didn’t his mother would cry again and he would do anything so she wouldn’t have to cry anymore.

The lady’s stop came and went and now the bus was slowing by a street corner. The boy got off and looked around him. He was downtown surrounded by rushing people and rushing cars, towering buildings and clanging clocktowers. He walked a few blocks away from the bus stop and found a corner that looked good to him. He put the wooden bowl on the ground and took his whistle out of his backpack. And there, surrounded by all the noise and rush, he began to play.

He played sorrow, poorness and the loneliness of having no voice. He played oppression, eviction, bills and rent. He played with his eyes closed and pretended he was playing for his mother. She could understand what his music said and she was listening to him speak. The music soared over the noise of the city, drowning out honking cars and shouting people. The boy forgot where he was and why in the sheer joy of playing.

When the song ended he boy opened his eyes and was shocked to see a crowd of people. Some people were laughing at the little boy with the whistle, but most of the people had heard and understood. The wooden bowl in front of him was already half-full of coins and paper money. Grinning the boy put the whistle back up to his lips.

This time he played the birds. He told the crowd about the flock that lived behind his apartment. He told them how funny the birds look when they argue and how they feel when they first learn to fly. He told the crowd about the birds listening to him play and he thanked them for listening like birds. Next he played school on a cloudy day.

By the time the boy was done for the day he had filled the bowl three times. He packed everything into his backpack and headed home. He set the table for dinner and settled down to wait for his mother. When she came home she smiled at him in an absent minded way. She went into the kitchen and started making dinner. The boy was suddenly unsure about showing his mother the money. He realized she would ask where he got it and he wasn’t sure he could make her understand. He decided to wait and show her when she wasn’t so tired.

Dinner was a very quiet meal. The boy’s mother was lost in her thoughts and the boy didn’t know how to lead her back to him. After dinner the boy played his whistle while his mother cleaned up the house and then he went to bed. He would show her tomorrow.

The next day he found a different street corner and played excitement and secrets. The people walking by filled up his bowl time after time and then it was time to go home. The boy skipped home from the bus stop as best he could with a heavy backpack. Tonight he would show his mother the money and she would be so happy.

When his mother got home he ran up to her, but before he could show her his backpack full of money she told him to get ready to leave. They were going to eat dinner with his grandparents. All of the excitement drained out of the boy. He hated going to his grandparents house. It seemed to him that they spent most of the time telling his mother what she was doing wrong with her life and his. And since they too assumed that since he couldn’t speak he couldn’t hear they just acted like he couldn’t understand what they said. His mother always tried not to show how hurt she was by their words, but the boy knew.

The boy held his mother’s hand as they rode the bus to his grandparent’s house. Every now and then she would look at him and smile and squeeze his hand. He smiled back at her and squeezed his whistle he held in his other hand. Tonight, when they got home, he would tell her. And then she would smile without any sadness in her eyes.

Dinner at his grandparent’s house was just like he had expected. His grandfather couldn’t seem to stop talking about how bad his mother’s job was and his grandmother kept insisting that he looked underfed. After dinner his mother and his grandparents went into another room to talk privately. The boy sat outside the door and played with some toys and so heard everything that they said. He heard his mother say that they were about to get kicked out of their apartment and he heard his mother ask for money. He heard his grandfather refuse to help them. He heard his mother beg. He heard his grandfather refuse again. His grandfather said that it wasn’t his fault her no-good husband had run off and so he didn’t think he should pay for her mistakes. The boy’s mother came out of the room and they left.

It was late when they got home and the boy’s mother sent him straight to bed. The boy was very smart, but he didn’t need to be very smart to know it was not a good time. So the boy went to bed and promised himself he would tell his mother tomorrow.

The sun rose on the next day promising happiness. The boy got up, got dressed and headed out again to the middle of the city. He played grandparents and hardness. He played his mother crying and how soon she would laugh. He finished up by playing secrets revealed and then he started for home, his backpack heavy with generous people’s money.

Two blocks from the bus stop a man stepped out of an alley way and snatched the boy’s backpack away. The boy tried desperately to get it back, but the man just knocked him to the ground and ran off. The boy sat on the curb and cried. All of his hope was in that backpack. All of his hope and any chance of seeing his mother laugh was in that backpack. And now it was all gone.

The boy sat on the curb as the sun went down and the street lights came on around him. He knew his mother would be home soon and that she would worry if he wasn’t there, but the sorrow held him down. Finally, he pulled his tin whistle out of his pocket and began to play his sorrow. His music surrounded him, giving understanding, giving comfort.

The sound of footsteps startled the boy out his sorrow. He turned to see a man standing behind him. The boy recognized him as someone who had stopped to listen to him play each day and remembered that he had put money in the bowl each time. The boy also noticed his backpack dangling from the man’s hand. The boy took his backpack from the man and found all of his money still inside it. He beamed up at the man with sudden, overwhelming happiness. To express his thanks he put his whistle to his lips and played his joy and thanks for the man who had brought back his hope. And then the man took him home.

The boy’s mother was frantic like he’d expected, but the man was able to explain everything. The boy’s mother was shocked and then overjoyed. She put both hands over her mouth and was so happy and proud of him she laughed and cried at the same time. The man stayed for dinner and they all had a lovely evening.

The next day the boy’s mother had a surprised for him when she got home. She had found a book that taught people how to talk with their hands. She promised him that they would both learn so that he would be able to talk to her. He searched through the book and found what he wanted to say. And then, for the first time since his voice had left, the boy told his mother he loved her. She started crying then, but he knew the tears weren’t sad.

The boy’s mother payed the rent for that month with the money he’d made, but didn’t have to worry about the next month. The man who’d returned the boy’s backpack asked her to marry him and after they were married she and the boy moved out of their apartment to his house. They weren’t poor anymore and bit by bit the boy learned how to talk to his mother and his new father with his hands. And they all lived happily ever after.