Little ballerina fingers.

April 28, 2011
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I sat on the bench in front of the piano. My fingers moving but not pressing the keys, I look at my invisible audience and stood up bowed and looked at the music in front of me…I whisper to myself… “I can do this” I start to play. I must have made it to at least the 3rd page before I messed up but I kept going. I kept thinking to myself “I can do it, I can do it” I froze. Something didn’t sound right. I stand up bow like I finished and waited till my invisible audience left. I sat back down and look at my messy writing on the paper…where did I mess up? I looked at the 2nd page I noticed that there was a note missing…without that note everything will mess up. I erase, play then write hoping to make it perfect…no. Still not right. I erase play what came to mind then wrote. I played again. Crap now this part doesn’t sound right. Erase, play, and write. I do it over and over and over again. Hours passed and I make very little progress. I have a week to finish and master this before the concert, Im done for. I phone rang and I stood up my back ached from sitting in that position for so long. I answered the phone

“Hello?” I had to clear my throat.

“Hello Vivian I have a student for you that might be able to help you.” It was my French cousin. I have no clue how that works when im American and she’s. Well you know.

“Oh thanks Lillian but I can’t possible teach right now. I have that concert on fri…” she stopped me.

“Darling please take this student! You won’t regret it!” I smiled a little…I can take my frustration out on my student.

“Sure..I’ll take the young man.” I guessed it was a boy I wasn’t sure.

“Oh no, darling, It’s a young lady! “ I was kind of shocked, A young girl trying to help me? Strange. (If you must know im one of the best musicians in the world but im often told im stubborn and rude) I talked to Lillian for a while then went back to the bench and stare and my unfinished piece. I started to play my concerto I felt free when I play it. I sing the notes along with the song. Then the ideas started to come, Idea after idea. I felt powerful! I must have worked all night I woke up on my bench with my head on the piano cover. I looked at my music and started to play it slowly then I started going faster but still making sure I was keeping it in time with my annoying metronome.

I got to the end of the piece filled with joy. My fingers felt like little ballerinas dancing on the keys. My doorbell rang I looked at the time I cussed under my breath and ran to the door. It was the young lady. I told her to go into my studio and warm-up while I changed my clothes and made myself look pretty. I walked back down stairs into my studio and listened to her play. She wasn’t using arm weight I could hear the pushing in her songs and she played and the stiffness of her wrists and arms. I yelled at her to stop and started to talk,

“Your fingers are pushing down the keys…you are exhausting yourself and you need to remember the keys are like little white and black shards of glass if you push too hard on the glass you can break them and you could hurt yourself.” She smiled and asked about the arm weight and I started to explain.

“Pretend you fingers are little ballerinas dancing balanced on the keys. They start dancing softly and smoothly now close your eyes and picture your little ballerina fingers.” She closed her eyes and started to play. The sound started to come together like it was a masterpiece. I smiled and told her to come back next week.

It was Friday already and I was putting on my performance dress and was talking to my invisible audience again. I walked into my studio and played my song one last time before I won the prize.


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