Beginning Piano
I love this painting, Before the Recital by Stephen Shortridge. The warm sunlight, the glowing colors and the somewhat crowded room fit with my idealized notions of owning a piano. I can picture me sitting on the sofa knitting scarves for the children while my daughter plays some classical piece. Mozart, maybe. But a piano is something I never thought I would own. Why on earth would I? I can't play. Nor can my husband. But for some unknown reason, my husband recently purchased one. A Kimball. With ivory keys.

And it is sitting in our already overstuffed front room. Baby Bug and Baby Bear enjoy their time each morning pretending to play. My daughter and I are working through lessons together. She is learning to hold her fingers properly. I already can play two songs: Merrily We Go Along and Jolly Old St. Nicholaus. Hmm. The colors in our front room are similar to this painting. I just need to invest in some floral arrangements. It definitely qualifies as crowded...even before the addition of the piano. I know how to knit. All I need is for Mouse to learn a bit of classical piano and I can sit inside my own imagination.

Learning piano is supposed to be one of those life long skills that brings personal satisfaction, depth to life and some sort of academic edge, isn't it? And surely Little Mouse can learn all she needs to know from her books, right? I am still trying to grasp the fact that we actually are now in possession of a piano. I can't begin to imagine a future involving piano tutors. Do you think I could find one who would trade for German lessons?

Or perhaps she could become an "un-musician." Oh, but I think that title has been taken. Chance music?