play the piano again

I don’t own a piano. I do own a very small basic keyboard, which is what I’m working with right now. This month I’ve practiced a single song several times and can almost play both hands together. (I’m starting with hymns because I already have a hymnal, they’re short, and one of my good childhood memories is singing hymns and other songs around my mother at her piano).

Piano was Mom’s idea. We all took. I quit, though, when I was about 12. My brother-my younger brother-was passing me up; I hated practicing and I hated piano.

Mom was right. I do regret it. I regret not being able to play for my son so that I could better encourage his interest in singing (when singing became uncool at about age 11, he started drumming instead and is now a fine snare drummer and timpani player, but still…) I regret not being able to accompany myself. I regret that my lack of piano skills means I can’t teach voice lessons.

I learned a couple of simple songs in high school—”Lost” from Neil Diamond’s Jonathon Livingston Seagull suite, and a hymn. And six or seven years ago when I got a small keyboard for Christmas I sat down with a book of simplified hymn arrangements and surprised myself by being able to play through those written in C, albeit hesitantly.

Mom took up piano again after we kids got in school. She got very good at it. My youngest is in Kindergarten this year. The problem is affording it.

But maybe it’s time.