The Pianist

I have devoted years of my life to playing the piano. I started lessons right before I turned five and continued through college. It was one of my passions. It was a place I could go to be alone and express myself. It was a place that was continually challenging me to practice more and try harder. It was a place that was rewarding to me. It was a gift that I could share. Playing the piano was not just something that I did. It was part of me coming through my hands and from my heart.

Early in our marriage Sean recognized my need to play. So when someone asked him if we would be willing to "house sit" a piano in our apartment, he arranged with some friend to have it moved up three flights of stairs into our little home. They carried it on their backs.

I remember pulling Hannah up next to me in her high chair and letting her play along while my big pregnant Lydia belly was getting in the way. We would sing together. I would play happy tunes and watch her grin. I'd play slow, sad pieces that would cause her to look concerned. We did this about every afternoon before naps. Baby Lydia would kick and move all around. In my new found role as mommy, it was comforting to have a hobby such as this. It reminded me that though my life was changing in essence I was still me.

The piano went back to its owner when we moved into another apartment. Four years later when we moved into our first home my parents graciously gave me the piano that I had grown up playing. It was like having an old friend come to visit.

As the years have gone on my piano playing has almost come to a complete halt. Time is definitely a factor. There is little time to practice anything new, let alone to review what I know. Whenever I do sit down to work through some music suddenly there are 8 hands joining in to play along. It's really hard to share a bench with three kids and a fourth on my lap.

I so enjoy watching our older children learn to play. They struggle at times measure by measure, even note by note. But with persistence they work it through and their efforts result in sweet songs. Because playing the piano is a passion of mine, I've hired a piano teacher to instruct them. I know that may sound foolish, but I have found little patience in teaching them. This is perhaps the one area in which there is a glimpse of perfectionism in me. I do not want to ruin the experience for them or myself.

I do not miss it in the same way as I did years ago. I accept this season of life as one that doesn't allow for hours of practice or leisurely piano playing. I do, however, have dreams of someday taking lessons again and maybe even playing in a recital or two. Perhaps I'll teach my grandchildren.