Small girl
Age of six.
Placing her tiny fingers upon the huge piano and gaping up at the swallowing blackness.
The keys don't sound good underneath her light, unexperienced fingers.
The young woman sitting next to her guides her gently and firmly between scales.
The girl, now age seven, watches over the stone wall as the young woman grows farther and farther away untils she is a speck.
A speck in the distance, a blot on her memory.
Tears sting the girl's eyes.
What a hard goodbye it was.
The girl tried. She really did.
So many other people, so different from the young woman she idolized.
They tried. But nothing was the same to her.
She gave up.
Years later, she regrets that decision. She's learned other instruments, but something pulls at the back of her mind every time.
She remembers the sounds from the old thing that she played on every week in the ivy covered building.
But she also remembers saying goodbye.
Now whenever she listens to the sounds drifting around the house because someone else didn't give up, her heart lurches.
She wants to try again.
Months and weeks of searching and thinking, rush up to a moment.
A moment when she's getting out of the car onto the slushy ground.
A moment when the door creaks open.
A moment with his smiling face.
He asks her to tell her story.
She pours her heart into the story of why she had to try again;
Why she gave up.
And he understands.
Young girl, age of ten.
Sitting on the small leather bench and placing her larger, longer fingers onto the keys.
He guides her gently but firmly back through her memories, back to a place when she could make sounds come from the old thing.
He understands.
Twenty years later, girl playing at a concert.
Her fingers dance surely across the keys, spelling out a story she got to tell.
Spelling out a story on the piano.
After the concert,
The thirty year old girl flies into a sixty something man's arms.
He smiles, tears in his eyes.
She smiles, tears in her eyes.
A young woman lurks in the corner, tears in her eyes.
Remembering the day she said goodbye.
Age of six.
Placing her tiny fingers upon the huge piano and gaping up at the swallowing blackness.
The keys don't sound good underneath her light, unexperienced fingers.
The young woman sitting next to her guides her gently and firmly between scales.
The girl, now age seven, watches over the stone wall as the young woman grows farther and farther away untils she is a speck.
A speck in the distance, a blot on her memory.
Tears sting the girl's eyes.
What a hard goodbye it was.
The girl tried. She really did.
So many other people, so different from the young woman she idolized.
They tried. But nothing was the same to her.
She gave up.
Years later, she regrets that decision. She's learned other instruments, but something pulls at the back of her mind every time.
She remembers the sounds from the old thing that she played on every week in the ivy covered building.
But she also remembers saying goodbye.
Now whenever she listens to the sounds drifting around the house because someone else didn't give up, her heart lurches.
She wants to try again.
Months and weeks of searching and thinking, rush up to a moment.
A moment when she's getting out of the car onto the slushy ground.
A moment when the door creaks open.
A moment with his smiling face.
He asks her to tell her story.
She pours her heart into the story of why she had to try again;
Why she gave up.
And he understands.
Young girl, age of ten.
Sitting on the small leather bench and placing her larger, longer fingers onto the keys.
He guides her gently but firmly back through her memories, back to a place when she could make sounds come from the old thing.
He understands.
Twenty years later, girl playing at a concert.
Her fingers dance surely across the keys, spelling out a story she got to tell.
Spelling out a story on the piano.
After the concert,
The thirty year old girl flies into a sixty something man's arms.
He smiles, tears in his eyes.
She smiles, tears in her eyes.
A young woman lurks in the corner, tears in her eyes.
Remembering the day she said goodbye.
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