THE PIANO, THE BRIDGE

Mom and I were not as close as I would have liked, most of my life, but we always had the piano. As a young child, mom gave me lessons. I was not her best student as sitting for that long, in one place, was quite a challenge for me. I would go to bed and it was concert time. Mom would have at it. I remember the soothing classical pieces and the tunes from The sting. They were some of my favorite. I would sneak out of my room and make a request now and then. Eventually I stopped lessons. I’m not sure if she gave up on trying to tie me to the bench, or I just refused in my stubborn, spoiled rotten way.  Time went by, pre-teen to teen years came along and the battles ensued. To say we didn’t get along would be a huge understatement. At this point though, I was capable of buying my own sheet music and muddling through. I'll show her. I don't need anyone to tell me what to do. I was not interested in any more scales, metronomes or classical crap. I wanted to learn songs that I knew and liked. It also made it easier because I automatically learned by memorizing what I played. This was helpful since I could not read music. 

F A C E was my home. By the time I deciphered one measure, another person, who could read the music, would have played the whole song. But there was always something I didn’t know. Then came the occasional shout out to the kitchen. “Mom, can you come here? I’m not sure what this means..”. She would sit just long enough to tell me what I needed to know and move on. She was learning…Didn’t want to be next to the hormonal teenager for too long. I could snap her head off at any moment. Then came the grunts from the kitchen when my lead foot was Laying on the pedal. I remember hearing those same grunts in the car with mom during Those lessons too.  

Mom’s piano was to go to my older sister, upon moms passing. I used to beg her to change it to me. I don’t know if mom understood why, but I think she did. I loved hearing her play. Even through the tough years I would come sit down and listen. When I was mad, I didn’t make my interest as known. I would pretend to eat a sandwich in the kitchen, or clean something. The cleaning may have tipped her off. I didn’t do that without a gun to my head. 

Later in life, mom and I became closer. Unfortunately, when this began she was diagnosed with Dementia. We lost mom last year, to a terrible disease. She even passed on my birthday. My niece comforted me in the thought that it was her gift to me knowing how badly I wanted her set free from this terrible disease. When the codicil was read, tears came as I saw that she left the piano to me. I guess mom also knew that it was our bridge.