1916, Early December, New Orleans, LA; Brailen Gregory had just turned seven. A year prior, he had been taught how to form his lips to produce sound from his father's trumpet. He’d already shown a major interest in the big band movements that were taking the scene. Every day for that year Brailen sat in the room and learned about music theory and about brass instruments and the piano. His father, a composer and piano player of his time, had saved up and purchased an old, beat up trumpet for Brailen's seventh birthday. Seeing the boy’s eyes light up as he unraveled the paper enclosing the instrument filled his parents with joy.

In his free time from school, Brailen would come home and play on his trumpet, learning to read music from his father. His father began focusing on writing parts specifically for Brailen to teach him different styles and forms of playing. For nearly two years this pattern progressed and Brailen excelled at a brilliant pace. That was, until his father became ill. Without the funds to see a proper doctor, Mr. Gregory passed away in the early winter of 1918; November, just a month before Brailen’s ninth birthday. Brailen fell away from his music a bit while in mourning, but at night his trumpet could be heard quietly playing a sorrow-filled melody through his second story bedroom window. Often, the neighbors would listen and his mother would weep behind her own closed door.

Over the next few years, his grades dropped and music took over his life. When Brailen wanted to feel near his father, he’d go into the study and play his father’s old songs on his trumpet or pick them out on the piano. He'd begun studying composition and had even written a few songs of his own that were given or sold to a few of the big bands in the area. He even began to feature in some of their shows to play his own pieces. His mother began to worry that he was going to piss his life away without much education and orchestrated to have the piano removed from their house while Brailen was away for a night. She sold the piano along with some of his father’s original works. Brailen came home early the next morning and his mother greeted him at the door with a scornful look that griped about him being out so late at such an age. After complaining about worrying her to death, Brailen kissed his mother's cheek and told her he was fine. He produced a wad of cash that he'd brought home from the street corner where he'd been playing some of his original material. He'd sold one of his father's previously unfinished works that he'd completed. His mom began to tear up looking at him and finally hugged him. She didn't have the heart to tell him just yet, but protested as he headed straight for the study.

His horn case hit the floor with a loud thud and bounced to fall on its side. He turned and looked at his mother, calmly and in shock at the vanishing piano, asking her what had she done. Explaining that she'd begun to worry about his decline in school, she told him that she'd sold the piano and a few of his father's finished works. "That was dad's stuff! That was MY stuff! He'd left it to ME! How could you even sell it! HOW COULD YOU SELL DAD AWAY AND THINK IT WOULD HELP ME!?" Brailen was in tears as was his mother, and he rushed to his room as she tried to apologize and hug him. After an hour locked in his room, staring at his trumpet case, he heard the front door slam and watched his mother walk off quickly down the street...

Morning light crept through the house and the smell of morning breakfast stirred Brailen. He slid out of bed and stepped on a few sheets of paper. Looking down to see what was on his floor, he began to cry and hugged his father’s sheet music to his chest. After a few moments, he jumped up and raced down stairs to hug his mother. "You got dad back!" He cried out happily and embraced her, almost knocking her to the ground.

“Oh Brailen, you’re up!” his mother exclaimed as she was almost knocked over from his excitement. She laughed, and cried, and hugged him. "You were right... I shouldn't have sold the music. I can't get the piano back baby, I'm sorry, but for a small price I was able to get the sheet music returned." Brailen hugged her tighter before letting her go and stepping back. "I don't care about the piano mum. I only cared about the music that pops and I had started writing together." He was practically beaming, more than she'd seen in years. She broke down crying a bit and Brailen hugged her again, "It's okay mum. Everything is going to be okay..."

He vanished to the study for the rest of the day where he hummed and played his trumpet while scribbling notes down on the staff paper. His mother popped her head in, "Hate to interrupt, baby, but I've got a date tonight... Dinner is on the counter whenever you get hungry." Brailen looked up with a brow perked, "A date?" He blinked, "So you try and sell pops, and now you're going to go on a date?" She sighed and nodded, "This was the deal that got your father's music back." Brailen blinked, and his irritation melted. He stood and hugged his mother, "Thank you for doing this for me, mum. You're the best." With a kiss to his forehead, his mother turned from him and headed out, waving over her shoulder. He returned to the desk in the study and continued to write until he fell asleep in the chair, his head on the desk.

Again, light crept through the windows and woke him. As he made his way to the kitchen he froze. Sitting at the table there was a man, wearing his father's old robe, and drinking coffee. The look on his face made it obvious that he had questions. His mother turned and greeted him, “Oh, good morning baby. This is the man I sold the sheet music to. And…well, one thing led to another. It... It’s been so long since your father passed Brailen.”

She reached for him and he hesitantly pulled back before relaxing a bit, “Just shocking... Sorry.” He hugged his mother but his eyes didn’t leave the strange man in his father’s robe. He moved over and offered his hand to the bloke, “Thanks... For returning the music I mean.”

“’Ey kiddo, no problem, yea? It’s some interesting stuff there, and who could pass up a chance at this lovely lady, hmm?” He shook Brailen’s hand, who looked like he might vomit. His mother smiled and leaned down to kiss the man on his cheek. Brailen frowned before grabbing a piece of bread and eating it. After a bit, Brailen finally excused himself from the awkward situation and went to his room. His trumpet struck up a tune for the neighborhood, and some people even opened their windows to listen. The melody carried the sound of mixed emotions...