Missing the music

My mom is a piano teacher. 


Let me rephrase that. My mom is a phenomenal piano teacher. She works a lot with special needs children. She teaches students that other people can't, and she doesn't have formal training. I think God gifted her with the ability to reach children through music, to work with each individual student to find the way they can learn best. I admire her hugely.


She also taught me, ungrateful wretch that I was! I took lessons from her from 1st grade till a little after I graduated from 8th. It was a fairly frustrating experience for both of us:) My poor mother, after a full day of listening to her students butcher and blunder their way through their lessons, she had to listen to my brother and I practice in the evenings. And poor us, we had to listen to her clap out the rhythm upstairs in the kitchen and yell down at us when we were doing it wrong. It was a frustrating experience for everyone.


Yet somewhere in the midst of all that, I found myself enjoying the music I was playing. Probably right around the time I could sit down and play an actual song. It was . . . relaxing. It helped me release my emotions.


I grew up with the sound of the piano almost continually in the house. It was either horrific (the little beginners), wince-inducing (intermediate), or fun (advanced students). And then there was the music when my mom practiced. I remember snickering when I'd hear her shriek in frustration over a section that wasn't coming together. I remember smiling faintly in the back of my mind when she played a song I particularly liked. But I especially remember her practicing on Sabbath morning as I dreamily woke up. It almost felt like she was welcoming the Sabbath into our home with beautiful music. I still love it when she's playing on Sabbath morning when I visit home, it feels like I've stepped back in time.


I play the piano only rarely nowadays. I don't own a piano and really only get the opportunity when I visit my mom (and her 3 piano's!). But every time my fingertips touch the keys of the piano I learned to play on, I feel transported. My fingers move in a way I can't explain, they pick up the muscle memory without complaint. I'm not particularly good, but there are certain songs I can play with ease that fill me with beauty and memories.


Tonight I'm missing the music. I wish I could sit down at the piano and get lost for awhile. I'm listening to some beautiful music and typing, but it's not quite the same. It's a gift that I'll always appreciate though, the gift of music that my mom gave me.

Vacation Blog #1

Confession time: I actually think vacation blogs can be a little dull generally, but I find myself in a writing mood this evening, so I'll try to make this succinct and punchy.


I'm taking my first week long vacation in . . . many, many years. Generally my vacations revolve around holidays, long weekends, and family visits. Technically, this is a holiday weekend/long weekend and I'm with family . . . so what's the difference? 


It's a road trip.


Good gravy, I despise road trips.


Maybe despise is a harsh word. Road trips are not on the top of the list of vacations I would choose to do. I don't enjoy spending the majority of my day sitting in a car and watching the world pass me by. Also, I get carsick if I try to read in the car, which seems like a great, cosmic joke if you ask me. So yeah, road trips, not really my cup of tea.


Which is why it's ironic that my first long vacation in many moons is involving a road trip. However, there is a pot of gold at the end of this long rainbow, and it was day one of our trip  . . . Ashland.


Last night we got to go see Pirates of Penzance and it was amazing! It was at the Elizabethan Theatre in Ashland, which is their largest and it's an open-roofed structure. It was an epic production, I was blown away. And it was especially wonderful because I didn't think we'd be able to go, I'd checked on tickets and it was sold out. But serendipity in the form of a guy with extra tickets ($80 tickets that he sold for $35) struck and suddenly we had amazing seats on a gorgeous evening. All in all, it put this reluctant road tripper into a very happy mood.


Family fun is all about democracy, which is why I remind myself that this vacation is not all about me, which means that when everyone else wants to stop and look at a museum in a ghost town in the middle of the desert . . . I stop and politely ooh and aah over the glorious fascination of it all. Growing up and considering other people's wants/needs is such hard work;)


House boating is coming up soon . . . more on that later, if the writing mood is still upon me.