Several weeks ago, a friend asked what music speaks to my melancholy. At the time I was feeling quite melancholy indeed, realizing that my little family, in its entirety, wouldn’t be together for a couple of months.
Playing piano, while I’m certainly no virtuoso, has always been an outlet for me, and this time was no exception.
I will not be playing for a little while, however, because I can not seem to make the piano sound any kind of decent without a sustaining pedal. The piano repair man comes in two weeks to hopefully replace the pedal that Bab’s friend inadvertently dislocated from my much loved piano earlier this month when she chose to launch herself from the piano bench to the enormous bean bag across the room.
“What’s going on, girls?” I yelled from the bedroom where I was folding laundry, nervousness in my voice.
Together in perfect unison, the girls replied in that sing-song way that eight-year-olds have, “No-thing.”
“Oh, awesome,” I thought to myself. “No worries.” And I continued going about my business.
I didn’t even think to explore the potential ramifications of that very large crash until I sat down later at the piano to play and realized that my sustaining pedal was lying on the ground next to the piano, no longer attached and there was a rather large dent in the side of the bench. Fortunately, I am still bright enough to put two and two and one together.
It’s only a 100-year-old, hand-carved piano. I’m sure it will be fine. Just fine.
I, however, will not be able to take requests until then, but I have not forgotten that someday I am expected to play “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
Every girl needs a challenge, yes?
In the meantime, Autumn Leaves, the music that spoke to my melancholy early last month when I was missing LJ.
I can post it today because he’s home playing trains with Jon and everything is, once again, well in my world.