The Real Piano Lesson

Lately, it feels like I’ve spent so much time worrying about the future and remembering the past that I have forgotten how to live in the present. The events and the beauty of each day rush beyond me and leave me behind on a path on which I have no footprints.

And so I sit to take stock and create change. I sit on a hard piano bench staring at my old nemesis. As a small child, I carved my name in the wood grain but that did not make me a musician. Taking lessons for more years than my sister made me no better and no amount of lessons would make either of us better than my gifted and talented mother. I hear the cadence of their melodies and close my eyes.

The sun is streaming through the windows and I feel the warmth penetrating deep into my heart and hands. A slight morning breeze has been gently pushing aside the clouds exposing a brilliant blue sky. The branches rustle outside as a startled bird flies out of the still blooming pink crepe myrtle. Neighbors are talking and the sound of children’s laughter punctuates their murmured conversations. From the kitchen, water gurgles in the copper fountain breaking the silence in the otherwise still house. I feel the heartbeat in my throat pulsating in time to harmonies now coursing through my blood.

Opening my eyes, I stretch my fingers onto the dusty ivory keys. For a moment, I stop to feel the smooth texture and lightly brush a chord. I don’t worry about not playing as well as my sister or mother, and I don’t worry about not being asked to play in some future Christmas Cantata of a church I don’t even attend. For the first time in over two years, I simply play and what I hear is the music of my life - the simple joy of living - resounding from each note.