chapter two

my mother found our first piano at a garage sale when i was 7 years old.

the beat-up, upright piano had spent the majority of it's life in a saloon. the keys were yellowed and chipped, the stench of nicotine had seeped itself permanently into the body. it hadn't been tuned in years, and it's bench had long since been thrown out.

from the moment i saw it in our house, i was completely enamored.

sometimes, after i'd been put to bed, but before i'd fallen asleep, my mom would play. i can just imagine her, taking a few moments to herself, fingers gliding over the keys, eyes closed, lost in memories and pensive introspection. i distinctly remember feeling so peaceful and safe as moonlight sonata drifted up the stairs and rocked me to sleep.

after a few months of lessons, i knew i wanted to play forever. i wrote my grandfather a letter, asking him for the sheet music to fur elise. he sent me his own personal copy, yellowed and ripping, taped together, notes scrawled across the margins.

my father once sat me on his lap as my mother played the piece in the other room. he told me to close his eyes and describe the music i was hearing. the two of us listened to the song over and over, talking about ballerinas and magic and trying to articulate music in a way that can't truly be done.... but it's the greatest thing to try.

i want a piano in my future home. i want to play canon in d, which is my favorite song in the world, or clair de lune, which is my second favorite. i hope my kids are still awake as i plunk out the tunes that will hopefully instill in them a sense of peace and safety, and stick in their minds as a special memory, just as my mother's playing has for me.