Originally written, March 28, 2022
There I was standing before a piece of wood. No, it was not just any ordinary piece of wood. Let’s give it some respect: a wood that saved my life. No, no.. now, that sounds too dramatic. Let’s just say a wood with a heart and soul that makes music flow. Yes, I was in front of a piano. I was in front of a piano, once, twice, thrice, I could not remember how many times. I was in front of a grand piano once during my recital day with my little fingers nervously playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on a huge stage with a golden floor. A huge carpet-like curtain hides the backstage where other musicians felt the sweat of their palms as their wait for their turn. I remember that day when I bowed before the audience with my small arms on the side of my pretty floral formal dress. I felt the tightness of the cute doll shoes on my feet as I walk towards the backstage. I heard the gentle clap of the audience which made me wonder if they liked it or not.
I was in front of a piano in our dark living room at home trying to see if I can play with no lights on. Silly me, of course I can. But this time I was in front of a piano, with no crowd, no pretty floral formal dress and cute doll shoes and it was broad daylight. I was in front of a piano, the piano in a hallway. That’s what I call it. It was an old piano in the administration office building placed in the hallway where I took college. I would always pass by this old black piano sitting on one side of the hallway.
It sat there lonely, maybe rusted inside, definitely needed some tune-up. There were days that I would see students who would play on the keys even if they are not a pianist. In my mind, I would like to say, I can teach you if you want, but as always, I would hold back, hold back on opportunities in meeting new friends and creating marvelous conversations with them and the piano. But most days the old piano is lonely like me. Without anyone to turn to. Silent. Without any company, it wouldn’t play on its own. Same as with me I just couldn’t talk on my own people will think I’m crazy.
As I write this, I feel old, rusted, unworthy, forgotten by everyone who knew me. It’s like a huge rock is upon my shoulders and I recall this same feeling back then, ten years ago. I intentionally went to that hallway, opened the case of the piano, and started playing. It was difficult to play because there was no chair. So, I stood as I played not minding the pain in my hands and wrist but feeling lost in the moment. It has a missing pedal in the middle of its feet which reminds me of how disabled I felt during that moment. With my heart crying out within, I played, I played hard and long. I could not comprehend the feeling I had back then. All I knew was that I felt very sad, lost, and alone. I didn’t mind much even if the piano was dirty with dust or worse probably slimy with something else as I feel it in my hands. I could feel the roughness of the dust on my fingers and the particles of the dust floating towards my face letting me catch a little cold. But it doesn’t matter. I rubbed my nose on the side of my arm like a kid.
Nothing matters to me during that moment. Nothing matters to me now than to write this. All I knew was that I wanted to play. All that the “Nini” in me knew was that if I play it will help me heal. I didn’t mind if students, teachers, or whoever might look at me, all I know is that I’m talking to my buddy, my best friend who understood me. It called me during that moment to communicate with its old soul and discover the melody of being free. The sound of the old piano sounded like a tin can as I played but one thing is for sure, I felt on the keys that it made many people happy who passed by it. I hope I made people happy too in their lifetime. I wonder now where this old piano is. I haven’t visited in quite a while. But whether or not it’s still there all I knew is that it gave me hope to live again. Its soul remains with me. It saved me once again today.
As I write this, I’m not in front of a piano but I am typing away my sorrows for today on a laptop keyboard instead while beautiful instrumental piano music plays in the background. Music heals. So do you. So does me. For today, this is what I feel. Ten years ago, there was a time, a story long ago when I felt this dark day as well. The piano music rescued me once again. Memories help us heal whether they are good or bad. Music heals. Same as how writing about it heals.