So it has come to my attention that playing piano is actually a great skill to possess. It pains me that it took me until now to realize that. I met a really close friend of mine who loves playing the piano any moment he can. I’ve tagged along with him recently to his trips to the piano room because I enjoy piano music. As I watched him glide over the white and black keys of the piano, my heart ached. I couldn’t read the sheet music as fast as I used to be able to. And once I gathered enough courage to print out the sheet music to a song I’ve been wanting to learn how to play, I have lost the ability to cite read well and make my hands do different movements.
I began flashbacking to about…1997. (Damn, that’s a long time ago.) I was in second grade, and both my brother and I were taking piano lessons. One particular lesson day came immediately to my mind. My brother was in his lesson and I was outside jump roping. ”I jumped 100 times, mom!” I remember screaming in joy. Then it was time for me to take my lesson. Fast forward to the year 2000. My brother quit his lessons, and I disliked spending my Thursday afternoons at piano lessons. But I still went with a smile on my face, running up the stairs with four or five piano books in my arms. My lesson was always around the time mail arrived at my teacher’s house so I always gathered it for her. The lessons were in a small room that overlooked the streets. The first piano I ever played on was in this room. A light brown wall piano. Next to the wooden piano bench, my teacher sat on a white wooden chair. If you took a right before entering this small room, you’d enter the living room. There resided the grand piano we played during recitals. The atmosphere during recitals was sophisticated, although during that time, I didn’t understand fully the experience I went through. My mind surfs through the many days I spent in this old Victorian house. If I were to visit this house back in San Francisco, it wouldn’t be the same. My teacher moved to the East Coast and who knows who lives there now. I feel like part of my childhood moved away, and I can never get it back.
I sit here blogging, listening to my friend play the piano. Besides the fact the song he’s playing is sad, reminiscing back to this segment of my life makes me sad. Piano is another one of the few things I wish my mom made me stick with because now, my skills are mediocre compared to my friends. Considering how long I took lessons for, my ability to read music is lacking and I feel like I let myself down. Hopefully with some determination and practice, I’ll be back to where I was.
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