#mbinto

tw for brief mentions of death (grandparents)

All things considered, Micah has had a pretty easy life. The only child of a venue coordinator mother and an orchestra director father, his childhood had been rich, in nearly every sense of the word. He was want for nothing, brought up around music and arts of all kinds, sent to great schools, and encouraged to explore any creative avenue that piqued his interest.

As was tradition for Rutherfords, Micah developed a love for music. He spent countless hours at rehearsals with his dad, listening to the orchestra perfect classic pieces, learn movie scores, and occasionally, a cross over with music from Coldplay, Drake, or Taylor Swift. He also loved to visit his Gran and Gramps in Moorbrooke. His Gramps was a retired jazz musician who had had a wildly successful career. Micah loved to hear the stories, the songs, and even learned the basics of playing the trumpet before the man passed when Micah was still a child. Even after he was gone, his stories lived on through his Gran. Micah would visit her often, hear her sides of the stories and sit silently while the record player filled the room with memories.

When it came time to think about college, a career, the future, Micah was hesitant. Music seemed the obvious choice, and he would have been a valued candidate at several arts colleges around the country. But the structure of formal learning didn’t appeal to him. Answering to “the man”and forcing the craft for a grade felt... disingenuous. Instead, Micah opted to dive head first into work, finding the avenue that would suit him best. He played at piano bars, did a stint with Disneyland’s Dapper Dans, couch surfed across the country finding any and every odd music industry job he could until he found it two years later.

He’d been hired at a piano bar, crooning Piano Man for tips four nights a week. It was a solid gig, for now. His roommate at the time was a DJ and the equipment he got to be around in the apartment? He hadn’t felt the curiosity that stirred in his bones since he’s listened to his Gramps talk about his career years ago. His roommate taught him the ropes, instructing how each knob and switch charged the sounds. And with every click, Micah felt everything falling in to place.

Since then, Micah has been honing his skills as a DJ and is pretty good, if he would say so himself (and he totally would). He had a regular job with the Cosmopolitan in Vegas, facilitating a party life and living one of his own. Until two months ago when he got the news that his Gran had passed away. So he made the trip to Maine, one that he had made a 100 times, and said goodbye to the woman for the last time. 

A few weeks later, when the will was read, the whole family was shocked to find the entire estate had been left in Micah’s care. The large home in Primrose Avenue, the 1966 Corvette, all of his Gramps music and instrument collection, everything. His extended family - aunts and uncles, the other fifteen grandchildren - and his parents were probably more shocked than he was at the results. After all, Micah was the who came around outside of holidays and family gatherings.