When I was a kid my Aunt Ester would come over and teach me how to play out of that old hymnal that of course had the smell of an old library. Yellow pages and all.
Years later I decided to try piano again, with Sister Sandy. Hmm. . . God really does rest her soul these days no doubt. Forgive me Sandy, hated her teachings. I never had any fun with that.
Now fifteen years later I find myself with a weighted keyboard, 88 keys, sitting in my husband's "band room". What should be the dinning room of my quaint home. Monday I took my hands to that thing, and decided I'd try a third time. It's the charm right?
I'm loving it. Hands hurt to type now. If they're going to hurt, I'd rather them hurt from playing music.
Signing off for tonight to get back to those sounds.
~Rose
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