I was up most of the night, the birds were beginning to sing when I finally went to bed. I was certainly tired enough but simply couldn't fall asleep. I was here part of the time but mostly I sat and mulled through the many things going on in my life at the moment.
I'm not sure I accomplished much, but it happens from time to time.
When awoke about an hour or so ago it was to the sound of my piano being played downstairs. I recognised the piece immediately as it was the one I chose for my own senior recital so many years ago. Fantasie-Impromptu for Piano in C sharp minor by Frederic Chopin I knew that Nate had never progressed to the point of mastering that piece so I wondered just who might be here. Then I remember that Beth too had played that piece at her own senior recital. But she has hardly touched the piano since, so I doubted that it was her.
When I finally wandered down the stairs I discovered Nate sitting on the sofa completely enraptured by the magic being performed for his pleasure alone. Seated at the piano was Anthony playing seemingly without effort. So flawless was his performance and so full of emotion I was suddenly taken back to another place at another time.
I was seven or there abouts, it was late in the evening and I was supposed to be asleep. But as is not uncommon among seven year old boys, I wasn't tired. I knew my father was home and I wanted to be with him. When I wandered into the living room there sat my mother on the sofa, not unlike Nate, totally caught up in the magic of the music being played for her alone. At the piano sat my father completely at one with the instrument playing his favorite Chopin piece. The same one Anthony played so beautifully only minutes ago.
When I curled up on the sofa next to my mother, her health already failing, she pulled me close and said, "See my darling! Do you see why I love him so?" This of course was before he gave himself completely over to booze and floozies. I remember weeping that night as I thought I would never be as accomplished as he. I had been taking lessons for almost two years at that point.
Then almost ten years later I chose that piece for my recital. My instructor was a tyrant, an old Austrian matron who thought she was God's gift to the music world. By then my grandfather had passed, about four months or so earlier so having little else to do I gave myself completely over to my music. If I wasn't at school, baseball practice or a game I was at the piano trying to perfect the piece for the recital. I remember Sarah coming in after hours of practice suggesting that I take a break for a while and eat something. "Not now, can't yo see I'm busy!" I would say.
By the night of the recital I was as ready as I could ever be, I had the thing down pat and was confident that I would perform flawlessly. After the recital, in the lobby Madame Grunning came up to me and said, "My darling child your performance was technically flawless, but there was no feeling, no emotion. It fell flat to my ears. I expected so much more from you. Go along now to your little ball games and your fast cars and faster women. You'll never be as good as your father. You've wasted my time." I didn't even know that she knew him. Needless to say I was crushed and didn't touch the piano for years.
Years later when Beth chose that same piece for her senior recital I was devastated. She had no idea about my own experiences with it. Much like my advanced piano instructor, hers was a tyrant, and old Italian women who insisted upon being referred to merely as Contessa. I never knew her actual name or whether her title was inherited or self proclaimed. Unlike my teacher however she was surprisingly supportive and encouraging. Beth worked tirelessly at the piece until she felt she had it mastered. The night of her recital I was a nervous wreck. She performed wonderfully and with much more feeling than my own performance some years prior. I was absolutely enthralled, and so too it seems, was the Contessa. She raved over the performance after the recital and tried to talk Beth into moving on to yet another teacher. Beth informed her that she had decided on a career in graphic design. I could see the disappointment in the old woman's eyes but she had heard it before and simply went on her way.
Now back to the present. As I entered the living room and took a seat beside my grandson, he put his arm around me and said, "See Gramps. Do you see why I love him so?"
I had to excuse myself, as the tears were welling up in my eyes and I refused to allow him to see it.
Sitting alone in the kitchen moments later I realised just how much like my mother Nate is. His profile is strikingly hers, his smile, his sweet gentle nature. Its a wonder I never really noticed it before. He is his great grandmother's child.
A few moments later he and Anthony appeared in the kitchen. I simply had to give the both of them great hugs and praise Anthony on his performance.
They are gone now to do whatever it is that teens do with their days in the summer. Probably gone to the lake or something like that. Yeah, the kid is getting to the old man, I mean Anthony of course.
Life is what it is.
