I don’t have a clear picture of whose graceful hands and fingers are moving across the piano’s keys. I sometimes picture a child, practicing. Then again, the ease and grace of the sounds, and the complexity of the melody might mean it is someone who has been practicing for longer.
These classical notes find their way into my small, city home every now and then. They dance across a red-brick patio that separates my living quarters from the larger, older house that surrounds me. These notes make their way through two glass panes which are always shielded by a pair of white blinds. They push through these blinds and dance into my small hallway. Down the hallway they glide, and fill the space between the hard-wood floors and the crown molding of our ceilings.
I am always tempted to go knock on the large front door and ask who is responsible for creating the beautiful sounds. Instead, I allow these melodies to take me away to a different time and place.
A formal gathering, champagne glasses sparkling and guests smiling.
A beautiful garden, where women are wearing flowery hats and drinking tea.
A quiet audience, captivated by a pianist’s performance.
My own home then transforms itself into its origins, for I was once told it used to be the formal living and dinning area of the house that surrounds mine. It is filled with expensive persian rugs, mid-century modern furntiure, heavy draperies, exquisite art on the walls and, of course, the piano. I have a corner set aside for it in my mind, and on this piano there are about a dozen silver framed photographs. Set amongst these frames, are unique souvenirs from far away places. Timeless memories.
Suddenly, silence. The pictures in my mind vanish quickly, as the classical notes stop dancing around in my home. I sigh and smile as I am brought back to my real surroundings.
I don’t have a clear picture of whose graceful hands and fingers were moving across the piano’s keys. But these sounds will come back, they always do. When they do, I will allow myself to get lost in their dance, again.
I will allow music to do what it is meant to do.