Today I played the piano. I haven’t touched it since before Chile (and months before that), but I have been itching to do so all week. So today I finally did. It felt so wonderful and so right. I don’t know why I ever stopped. I guess I feel the same way about journaling and reading the Bible. I’ll go for a few days without doing so and it is always a chore to pick up my Bible or journal again, but once I do I realize how much I miss it. Things should change in that regard.
All worries faded away as I played Claude Debussy’s Moonlight Sonata. I flipped a few pages and flowed into Claire de Lune, one of my all time favorites. I could still play. What a wonderful feeling to be able to pick something back up that was such a passion and has been so neglected after all this time. I definitely struggled with parts, but I’ll work on it and get it back to where I was with that piece four years ago. The very last few measures are all giant chords that you roll into. Brilliant. They are a bit of a stretch when one is out of practice. As I hit those chords, memories of when I was first learning the piece flooded over me. Dianne-my piano teacher-taught me how to “properly” roll the chords. Visions of her long, skinny fingers with crazy long fingernails were so vivid. Those fingernails, longer than any pianist’s fingernails should be, were always painted bright red and would clack as she hit the keys. Those keys, from that old, beautiful piano, were cracked from where a little kid had gotten mad and slammed down his book, breaking and chipping every single one of the piano keys. It was quite sad, but for someone learning to play, the chips helped one to know which key was being hit without having to look. Ok, so maybe that was just handicapping them for playing on other pianos, but it seemed easier at the time. (;
It is interesting how many vivid memories can come back with just a strike of one chord. Puts a new light on the saying “that really struck a chord.” For me tonight, it literally did. Wonderful memories, mixed with a bit of nostalgia and some sadness for time past. So naturally, the only cure-all for a funky mood was luckily available to me in our freezer. Strawberry ice cream. “Pink-Stuff” as it has been called before by loved ones. To me, chocolate is not the go-to food; it’s strawberry ice cream. It has the ability to let me sit in my nostalgic moods for a time, but it is such a happy ice cream that it doesn’t allow me to wallow. I can’t help but leave the bowl with a smile.
So strike up the band, keep your chin up, and keep playing. Life continues through nostalgia and it is a beautiful thing.
[P.S. I plan to play the piano tomorrow too. I'm excited!]
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