My Mornings

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Four beats per a measure, three sharps and no flats. Both of my hands start in the treble clef. My eyes cast over the pages of ink before my hands start to lights press down on the white and black spruce. A melody is born within the instrument and beginning to slowly waltz through the piano room, into the hallway and then swells as it fills the entire home. My foot rhythmically holds the golden pedal to the carpet and releases just before the notes began to over blend. I hear the clicking of eight paws on the hard-wood floors in the entry to my right. Out of the corner of my eye I see my giant golden and my little Corgi come wandering in behind me. I hear a sigh and a soft thud and know my canine companions aren’t moving for awhile. As my fingers dance across the keys, my mind wanders to the day I have a head of me. I have to eat breakfast and get dressed. Ride my horse and come home and get some college essays written and recommendations out. I need to mow the lawn and give the dogs baths. Take my little sister to practice and drive to Kalamazoo for my painting class. Come home and pick up my sister and cook dinner. Clean up dinner and finish my homework. Go back out to the barn because I know I have forgotten something of importance there and maybe get roped into doing the late night check on the horses. Then I need to come home and take a shower and get ready for bed. A feeling of exhaustion swarms over me. Then the morning sun comes streaming in from the window behind me. Reminding me the day has just begun. Taking a deep breath as my eyes follow down the last row of notes, and I hold the pedal as my hand lifts for a page turn. None of that right now. Right now it’s just me, the piano and the music. That’s all I need.





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