The Piano Teacher

May 29, 2010
Her face was the inspiration of beauty. Her ethereal fingers danced on the keys of the piano which sang like the opera in the amphitheaters. The wind, soughing in her hair, sighed to be so privileged to entangle its arms in her strands of hair. Her eyes were as pure blue as Antarctic seas, but as deep as the village’s well. Her eyelids fluttered like the beat of the butterfly’s wings as she played on the piano. Anyone sitting in the same house would be lured in by her music. Her emotion would not only pour into the song, but fade away slowly, as if it were a memory, dissipating gently.
When I sat next to her, I felt like an effete little girl with no harmonious connection to any instrument in the world. My foppery fingers stumbled their way through the measures. No flow trickled through the pieces I played, but no matter how hard I practiced, it never came to me. Her slender fingers guided my stiff carrot fingers, trying to get them to curve into the hand position. However, they stayed straight and rigid.
Weeks and months passed by with me sitting on the piano stool with my best Sunday dress on listening to her and trying to sight read through a few measures. I would be ready right after church, sitting on the stool. She would ring the doorbell, curtsy to my father as he handed her a crisp five dollar bill, and coo my mother on her new dress. Afterwards my mother would offer her a cup of tea and some pastry always topped with a raspberry fresh from the bush in the backyard and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. Then she would come to me and take out some new music she had found in the old music hall where she played at. My favorite part of the whole lesson was when she played. I would listen to her while my peregrine mind flew through the window through the air of the Sunday afternoon sun. When listening, it was as if all my fears and worries melted away and all I could see and hear were the echoes of the chords playing in the straggling halls of our mansion.
In those moments were my fondest childhood memories. Of course, I never learned how to play as well as her, but throughout our lessons, she kindled a passion of music in me that stuck to me throughout my life.

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