Sitting beside my best friend, Kay, on the piano bench, I marveled at the beautiful music she was able to make. They were simple little songs, some familiar tunes, some new ones, and some really fun ones. "I want to take piano lessons," I told her, "but mom and dad won't drive me. They say it is too far." Lying on the couch after a long day teaching school, Kay's mom heard the conversation; heard the longing in my voice. "Tell your mom and dad that you can stay with Kay on her lesson nights and we'll see if her teacher can take you right after Kay," she said. My face lit up and hope rose within me. Suddenly, it seemed like a possibility.
From a very young age I was fascinated with the piano. Vaguely, I remember one of my older sisters waking me up in the morning with piano music. Every Saturday when I dusted the furniture, I lingered over the keys, wishing I knew how to make beautiful sounds. I imagined myself playing lovely music and my parents being so proud of me.
Now - maybe it would happen! The next day I bounded off the school bus, ran to the house, and told my mother that I could take lessons, and they wouldn't have to drive me at all! "No," she said. You are not taking piano lessons. We're not going to have all that noise in the house again." It felt like I hit a brick wall. But, being a pre-teen, I thought it would only take a matter of time to wear her down. After all, this was something I really, really wanted to do.
A few days later, as we were all sitting around the supper table, I heard dad tell mom, "they're going to be here about 7:00 to get the piano." What?!?! With a broken heart I ran to my room, locked my door and flung myself across the bed. Awhile later I looked out my window to watch some strangers load my precious piano into their pick-up truck and drive away. That night I cried myself to sleep. That night my dream died.
If she had died in her 80's, there is a lesson I would never have learned. I'm glad she didn't die in her 80's.