Yesterday was music day. K and I ventured down to the lounge with or respective music books and set up in front of the piano. She had her music sheets and her flute and I had my Disney Piano for Beginners book. K is quite accomplished at the flute...and I am not so quite accomplished with my feeble attempts to pretend like I know what I am doing.
I have always loved the piano. My grandmother had a piano for a lot of years, but they have recently ridded themselves of the contraption - much to the disappointment of my siblings and me. I used to sit at the piano with some old music books she had and pretend like I was a great concert pianist. From what I hear, my grandma was a great pianist. I, however, haven't the long fingers that make playing a bit easier and I also didn't really have the drive to learn. I took lessons for two years, so yeah, I can read music but I can't play anything really worth listening to, ha, ha. But I do try. :-)
So I thought that I would take some pictures of the piano in our lounge. The piano isn't really anything really special. It could stand to be tuned, but it works well enough for all intents and purposes. It's way more in tune than the piano on second floor, so I can't complain too much. Ha, ha.
During my first week of college I spent more time in front of this piano than I would have thought possible. And it wasn't really for my love of music either, I have to admit. It was really the fact that the lounge was pretty secluded and not many people ventured inside it. The Janitors go in every so often to clean out the dust bunnies and vaccuum the carpet, but other than that it's pretty empty.
I have shed more tears in front of this piano than any other inanimate object. I have said more prayers in front of this piano than a normal person would think. I have just sat in silence, not playing, not moving, just thinking. That whole first week had more drama than the following two months combined. And I smile to say that the piano helped me through it.
So pianos don't talk back. They don't have good ideas, or warm comforting arms to sink into. But the piano held memories for me. I always wanted to be amazing at it, but I'm just not - which is okay. But the fact that I grew up around a piano - even though I didn't have a big one in my house (I just got a keyboard which was nice because it fit under my bed when not in use). I think that the piano will always hold something special for me. Like my old house in my old neighborhood. Like country music will always make me feel better. Like standing on the back porch and watching a lightning and thunder storm will make me smile. Like I will always miss gymnastics.
K and I stumbled through our awesome attempts at playing different disney songs, laughing and dancing as only K and I are capable of. It was hilarious for us because our books are in different keys and they don't compliment each other at all. And we tried to sing along, but it just wasn't working on SO many different levels. I still managed to have a good time. And I felt like K and I were actually friends again, since as of late I haven't been feeling really loving towards her. It was just a good experience all around.