When I was younger I took piano lessons from second grade until about my junior year of high school. I had an incredible teacher named Mary Ellen. I haven't seen her in years, but she is still so dear to my heart. She instilled in me such a love for playing. But my mother deserves a good portion of the credit too, as she was the one who required that we practice for 30 minutes every morning before school. She even made us set a timer. Usually we would practice around 6am, before everyone else in the house was even up. And you know how it is with mothers. If we skimped and only did 25 minutes of practice instead of 30, she was right there at breakfast asking why our practice session was shortened that morning. Not only do mothers have eyes in the back of their heads, and a sixth sense (aka mother's intuition), but they can apparently keep track of time in their sleep. Who knew!?
Some day soon I hope to have my own piano. I still have most of my music stashed away, just waiting for the day it can accompany me plunk out a tune or two. I say "plunk" because that is probably what it will sound like at first, as I am a bit rusty, but I have no doubt my fingers will remember the tunes eventually.
Just before Thanksgiving, Justin's Nana dug out this little toy for Kendry. He just loved that he could make so many sounds with it. Could he be my future pianist? Or will those incredibly long fingers prefer palming a basketball instead?
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