A few years back, before I lost the kids, Madison had taken some interest in music. Now when I say music I dont mean she had her own taste of what she liked to listen to, no, she wanted to PLAY music. She wanted to be there, with the music, and she wanted (her words, not mine) to experience music with music itself. Whatever that means, Im not sure. All I knew was she was into music, she could watch someone play an interment for hours, seriously. More than once she made her request know that “I wanna piano!” of course, that request fell on the safe deaf ears that “I wanna pony” requests fell on.
The other day, (the day they went to the neighbors house for the day) she came back, ecstatic about the piano! I listened, but didnt pay any attention, until yesterday when she literally BEGGED me to let her go to the neighbors house. It was complicated, because while shes feeling a lot better, Dylan seems to be on a relapse, because he hasnt done much but lay around, stuffed up, and he didnt feel like escorting her down to the neighbors house. I let her go…and I left Dylan at home. She was to be home in an hour. By the time I got home, she was frothing at the mouth spinning in circles once again BEGGING to go to the neighbors house, only this time, she NEEDED me to come with her.
I left Dylan sleeping and her and I walked the 5 minutes down to the neighbors house, her dancing and skipping, talking all about the wonderful thing she had to show me, and how she was so glad I was coming and blah blah blah blah….We knocked, or rather, she pounded and bolted in, while I stood waiting for the door to be opened. A few minutes later my friend the neighbor answered the door, and invited me in, all the while music was playing from some piano. I followed her in, to see Madison hammering away, pounding out the Beethoven symphony. Im not kidding here either. I watched as her fingers danced across the keys, plinking each one in the right way, she swayed a little, and pounded her head with the keys. She seemed like a natural at it, concentrated deeply on each note, her hands flew up and down the, plinking on each key, hitting them head on, causing music to float across the air….I stood there, mouth gaping, lost in time watching as this 11 year played music, watching as her hands, dripping with red finger nail polish and blue marker ink, rippled across the piano as natural as ever, as if she had been doing this her whole life.
Without stopping, she carried the symphony into a version of what I assumed was old Macdonald, but wasnt quite sure, because my ears suddenly began to ring and head started to pound because that kid can play with POWER. She pushed back with that smile across her face, that turned into a crumpled look of confusion, followed by a “light bulb went off” look “Oh…I gotta show you what I wanted to…” and her voice trailed off as she jumped up and fluttered back out the door. It took me a few minutes to regain my bearings, and be transported into the present time, all while trying to figure out where and how and what.
I looked at the neighbor for help, she smiled, shrugged and simply said “She picked that one up on her own” I smiled and headed out the door. A pianist in the future? A piano, perhaps? Or is it deaf ears, that will continue to hear these things, or perhaps, deaf ears in MY future?