With piano lessons comes recitals and with recitals comes practicing. Over and over and over again. When one is wrapped up with the performance and practicing, every once in a while one will play at the wrong time and mother will yell at you to be quiet. This can happen many…many times. Siblings can say things like, “You’ve played that part too many times! It’s annoying!” and parents can say similar things, wondering why you haven’t gotten it yet. With people breathing down your back, back-seat playing, and wishing you’d hurry up and be finished, a student can decide that it is time to be done. So I did. I laid aside my music like I never would have before: with a heavy heart and a soul unfinished without music.
I took voice lessons from Lori for another summer in lieu of piano because I was not ready to give up music yet. But in the end, I couldn’t afford it and had to stop that as well. Is it any wonder I latched onto dance so fast now?
But now, after going to a college junior recital and getting an offer from Katy Towell, I am thinking again about music my first love, the piano. I want to speak it’s language like the masters but I don’t have the practice. Can I practice while still in this house? I want to, but the wound is still deep. Many of you won’t understand the anguish of wanting to play music but being afraid to for the criticism that may come. The piano is in the middle of the house, there’s no privacy or solace. Just judgment. How long for those ivory keys! Tonight, I cried softly while gazing at the Lacrimosa sheet music on my electronic keyboard. I want to sing with my fingers. To pour emotion forth from a black coffin of strings and delicate keys.
What to do? My first love awaits me and I him. Oh, would that my heart were stronger.