Today I touched a piano for the first time in years. I used to play almost everyday, I loved it. My fingers gliding across the keys made me feel like I was flying, high on the sound waves of the melodies coming from my tiny keyboard. I remembered my lessons once a week, with an incredible teacher, learning so quickly I thought I’d be Mozart by age 20. I remember wanting to be a piano teacher when I grew up, to be able to give the gift of music to children, as she had to me.
My path in life may have changed, but I still don’t quite know why I quit piano. It was the first thing I ever quit, with only one other thing to follow (soccer, I was terrible). I found an old book, where I used to write songs. I used to love to sing, as long as no one was listening. I still do love to sing as long as no one is listening.
I was inspired today, to write something new. The first that I have finished, and put chords to in a very long time. I felt relieved afterwards, like I had been holding in my breath without realizing, and finally got to let it out. As I played (alone in my room where no one could hear), I realized that piano was a part of my past, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be a part of my future. It might be a little rusty at first but I know we can always pick back up where we left off.
Sometimes to we need parts of our past, to remind us how to grow into the future. Whether it’s a piano, an old teddy bear, a lucky bracelet, or an old friend; they show us who we used to be, and sometimes when we get lost, they can show us who we still are.