"So you think this Bladwin grand piano is nice, huh?"That was what an old man said to me some 10 or 11 years ago. I probably didn't even know what on earth he meant by 'grand pianos' or what a 'Baldwin' is.
I remembered it like it was yesterday.
I had denim overalls and a striped lavender shirt underneath. My hair had bangs with a bob cut and I was missing a tooth here and there. I was singing 'Oops! I Did it Again' on the way to the H&M musicstore and I was crying before we left the house because I really, reallllly wanted to wear my ruby red slippers (Dorothy/Wizard of Oz style) instead of my pink Nike sneakers.
What I don't remember was why? Why did this old man wanted to talk to me? What made me look at this particular piano from the others?
I remembered how it made me feel.
Looking at this instrument.....gave me goosebumps that warmed my heart and sparkled my eyes.
"Well, kiddo! Don't even try looking at this here masterpiece! It'll never be played by you and your short fingers."
Man. Typing his every word makes me realize how much guts and sass that guy had. & yet, I looked at him back and instantly smiled.
The following week, I had my first piano lesson and his words made my 6 years of piano training existable.
My skill had faded it's charm once highschool started...and it's not that I regret everything I do for choir and musicals...but there's always this emptiness of where my fingers wanted to press. A missing place to sit down and let an inanimate object understand me.
So this fufilled promise to myself has been lost for too long...and it's time to bring it back.
...because I missed you, my dear piano.