I had one hour to spare last night, and I wanted to think about something other than the date looming in my future this week: March 18. So I sat down to play the piano.
I started taking piano lessons when I began 2nd grade. I have played the piano in front of crowds, large and small. I got piano scholarship offers to universities and colleges. I’ve accompanied soloists, choirs, performing groups, bands, and played at weddings, funerals, dances, school and community functions. I taught piano to 32 students each week. So to anyone who knows me, this might not seem unusual. But the thing is, it is.
What few people, if any, may NOT know is that it has been almost one year since I sat down and REALLY played the piano. For me. Because I wanted to. I haven’t played, for me, since March 18, 2009. That’s the day I quit.
Maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I was just overwhelmed with the challenges and changes brought on by my unexpected life. Whatever the reason, I quit. And somehow, as March 18 approaches, I realize healing has taken place.
Enough healing, anyway, that I have turned to the piano again. Enough healing that I can begin to tell my story about the day everything ended.