I have a piano, Ben. My dad gave it to me about six years ago. And out of those six years, it's spent about four of them in a storage unit (not because I wanted it to). And let me say that it's been a long four years without it. This isn't just any old piano, it's PURE magic. Not only does it have the most beautiful sound, but it stayed perfectly in tune while it was in storage. My dad has composed nearly all of his music on this piano. And I've done the same. Every other piano I play pales in comparison.
We moved into our new home in September and I sang a hallelujah when the movers rolled that piano into my parlor. We finally had room for it. Between unpacking, commuting up North for school three days a week and adjusting to my new career as a full time mom, let's just say making music hasn't really happened...
In fact, I haven't written anything in over EIGHT YEARS. Almost a decade. As I'm writing these words, it's blowing my mind. How on Gods green earth have I gone this long without music flowing from my finger tips? When I do play, it's one of three songs I wrote EIGHT YEARS AGO.
Brandon always jokes,
"Hey, I've never heard that one before!"
You're sooooooo funny, Bran.
Let's be real for a sec...
I feel like me not finding time to play since we've moved is an excuse... Honestly, I'm intimidated. It's been so long. I've been through so much in eight years. Taking all the emotions and experiences from nearly a decade and trying to figure out how to express that through music is daunting. I have this standard in my mind and if I don't meet it, I fail. It all might sound stupid, because I'm writing and playing all for myself, so it shouldn't matter... But, to me, it does. How in the hell do you express that moment when you say "I do" to the love of your life? Or that moment you find out you're becoming parents for the first or second time? Or that moment when you meet your children? Not to mention all the other moments in between?
I can't read music. I used to be able to play by ear much better than I do now...
The only thing I'm able to do is play what I feel. And if I can't even do that, then what?
Today I woke up, tired and on the tail end of a week full of congestion, interrupted sleep and Doctor visits. Nothing special, nothing magical. We came home from a quick trip out of the house (since we've been cooped up all week) and lazily waltz around the living room in our comfies. The boys were playing, Brandon was reading and I sat down at the piano.
And there was this moment.
Life was simple and beautiful and I realized this is everything I've ever hoped for. And I'm just really happy.
And I played.