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Waking up my fingers

November 18, 2008

This last Sunday, my grandmother turned 88. Also this week, she passed her driving test, meaning she’s legal to be on the road until she’s 92. Even she thought that was hilarious.

It was a great family get-together, with excellent food, laughs, and wine.  (Oh, a lot of wine. My brain was not happy Monday morning, and I wasn’t the only one.) I can’t remember what possessed us, but my sister and I decided to head over to the piano and see how many musical numbers we could bang out, using our favorite old songbook.

My sister has a lovely voice. And I took piano for seven years in my youth (ending at 14). I hadn’t touched the keys at all in at least three years, so I was convinced that I wasn’t even going to remember where middle C was located. And yet! I moved my fingers, and music emanated from the piano! I was very rusty, and got confused on the very low notes, but I think I did pretty well, considering.

I forgot how much I love playing piano. I was never concert-level good, but it was good stress relief in college, merging a break AND feeling kind of constructive. I want to play again. Alas, there is nary a space in my tiny and already overfilled apartment for such a thing, to speak nothing of getting it down all those stairs! And a keyboard just won’t do.

I find it funny that NOW I’m in the right space to practice for twenty to thirty minutes a day, when as a child it bothered me to no end. What did you do as a child that you wish you had kept up?

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One comment

  1. I miss singing in a choir. I’ll live somehow. I think you should definitely find a way back into your piano playing.



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