The Drawing Room

January 1, 2012
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I was only seven when I first took sight of a piano, and like every other child, the urge to press the white rectangular keys was a tremendous feeling. Despite my curiosity and temptation my father forbid me to touch the instrument, afraid I might destroy it. As he looked at my disappointed eyes, his face brightened when he found the solution. Utterly confused, my mother and I walked into ‘Best Buy’ with him. He carefully inspected the portable CD players and after much thought in the ten minutes we stood staring at the products, he made his selection and we made our way to the check out station. When we arrived home, he instructed me to go into the drawing home, which was a room in the house that was large in size, complemented with the view of the mountains through the large windows, despite it’s beauty no one entered the room, except for me.


I sat impatiently on the couch waiting for him, until he opened the door with a soft kick holding a number of CDs and the new CD player he bought. I looked through all of the different discs in search of an artist that I knew like Britney Spears or Nsync but instead I found discs that were titled in confusing names such as Tchaikovsky and Bach. I felt his heavy stare on me, perhaps he was expecting a thankful and excited expression, but instead I gave him a crooked smile. When he clarified that I could play piano, I was thrilled and exuberant and then he said the word but, my emotions dissipated as easy as they first came. He made me a promise stating that I needed to explore his version of ‘true music’ before I could play a note on the piano.


That night I played the first CD titled Mozart, before the song reached it’s midpoint I was in love with it and my brain began envisioning fields of flowers, graceful ballerinas and myself playing the piano. I could not get enough of the music. I finally finished listening to all the CDs by ten o’clock in the evening. Though I knew it was extremely past my bed time, I tip toed into my father’s library and I searched blindly through the night searching through the bookcases hastily. When my hands felt the CD cases, the lights switched on and I froze. For once, my father’s facial expression was not upset, in fact he held an expression of delight and posed in a ‘I-knew-you-would-be here,-what-took-you-so-long’ posture. After the many hours we exchanged thoughts on all the different songs, it was that night when I finally became closer to my father .


The next day, my father returned to his strict attitude. While we ate breakfast they informed me that my schedule would change during the day because I had a new instructor for a subject I would need in the future. When I was called to the drawing room in the afternoon, a man was shaking my father hand and informed me that I was now able to play piano. I ran happily to my father and pressed my first key. Through my dreams and visions I thought playing the keys of the piano would come naturally and play a pleasant song such as, “Concerto 21” also known as “Andante” by Mozart; but I was utterly incorrect, the first keys I played sounded terrible and I knew I needed a lot more practice.





It has been about ten years since I played my first note on the piano and through constant practice each day I learned how to play different songs, memorize my favorites and play them in various order to form a miniature play. Through my passion of playing I reached level seven out of the eight. To others, the piano is just a piece of wood carefully constructed with wires and plastic, then covered in a thin layer of shiny black paint. But to me it is a instrument that inspired me not only to play it, but to have interests that are linked to the world of its music, such as ballet, singing and playing other instruments. The piano is an instrument that can be used to express your feelings and control your current moods but all in all, it causes its listeners in the world to form a closer bond and create many memories in their lives as it did with my relationship with my father and I.





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