Somewhere, Music Is

Since I've retired, I've been trying to bring music back into my life. Once, I was able to play the piano well enough to bring the music out of its keyboard, but I quit playing well over a decade ago. I didn't stop for any particular reason, I just drifted away from regular practice, and somewhere in there, the music stopped.

For the past two years, I've been trying to restart it.

I got some basic piano books from a friend of mine who used to teach lessons, and diligently worked my way through them. I've had very little formal piano training, so as I worked, I tried to undo some bad habits, tried to learn to play correctly.

It kinda-sorta worked. By sitting down at the piano most days of most weeks, I was able to learn to play the notes on the pages. The notes, yes, but the music, no. I could press the keys and get them to make the 'correct' noise, but the notes remained unconnected; random bits of noise.

For a while, I blamed the piano itself. I bought it as a gift for myself after I got divorced some thirty years ago, and time has not been kind to the inner workings of the instrument. I could, and did, get it tuned up, but tuning can't fix the worn and hardened hammer felts. Its sound is less on the mellow and rich side of the scale these days; it has tipped to the bright and tinny side of life. 

Then my piano teacher friend came by one day and played it for a few minutes. While the sound was not as rich as my heart remembered, the music was in there for her fingers, so I knew the instrument itself was not beyond hope.

And so, I kept persistently plogging away, patiently plunking the keys. Hoping anyways, that some skill would return, that the music was not lost to my fingers forever. 

Then, last week, as I finished learning a song and was playing it through, magic happened. The music returned! The disparate notes connected themselves into phrases. The phrases connected through into an unbroken line of sound. The main note in the chord emphasized itself, the others took their proper place as subordinate color. The vibrations of the strings melded together into a single wave of sound which spilled out of the instrument, into the room, and into my soul.

As I finished the song, I was unsurprised to find my cheeks wet with tears, just a few. 

Long ago, my mother-in-law gave me a small sign that said, "After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible, is Music."

I've always agreed.

And have no words for the gratitude I feel that creating Music is back within my reach. If I keep practicing, now I know it will return.

*happy sigh*