My piano isn't so much linked to a person as linked to our lives. I was nine years old when my parents bought their piano. I had already taken violin at school for a couple years so I knew how to read treble clef. Dad showed me where F# was and taught me how to read the base clef and my new love was born. Within a few days I had figured out how to play "Book of Mormon Stories" so my parents agreed to get me piano lessons. I went through several teachers in my probably 4 years of regular lessons and two years of "fake" lessons where I learned to accompany just reading guitar chords. I accompanied choir in junior high and a little in high school and I've taught piano lessons and played for years in church. My piano has always been my friend that heals all wounds. If I'm excited, I play a peppy, all over the piano kind of song. If I'm angry, a fugue. If I'm sad, Chopin. I sort all my feelings on the piano. When I'm playing my romantic music or church preludes, I'm all to right. Recently my piano was missing a key for a while. I missed it horribly and was so elated to get it back and have my piano tuned and working again. I love my piano and all the music that helps me be a better person.
1 comments:
My mom always says that "Music is the color" in my life. I think that's true, because it really does brighten and sharpen the other things I do. Having a piano in our home is a gift!
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