In my misty memory two lithe hands flew expertly over the piano keyboard. I was about ten and my mother was playing an intricate composition.
When we were kids, my brother and I would cuddle with her on the piano bench while she played music for us to sing to. Now, as an adult, I feel lucky to live nearby her and my dad. Due to proximity, my young twin daughters are able to have a similar musical experience in my childhood home.
I grew up in a loft style apartment in Manhattan’s cozy West Village. During the summer, my mom would blow up a kiddie pool, roll it out onto the sidewalk in front of our building and fill it with water from a hose. My brother and I would invite friends to join us in our urban aquatics. Quite a few times, as we splashed away, tales of pirates on the high seas would be regaled to us by a dramatic neighbor.
My daughters love to visit my old abode. There my mom, who is a quilt artist, has boxes filled with ribbons, notions and fabric scraps for them to sift through. The steady sound of tapping can be heard as my father, who is a writer, types on his computer keyboard.
Having met as teenagers, my parents have spent a lifetime together. Each has embraced the other’s differences. Whereas my father rocks out to Elvis Presley and Little Richard, my mom loves The Mamas & The Papas. Once, my mother blissfully confided to me, “your father will always see me as I was at eighteen.” I love this. Although my dad doesn’t dash around the city on a white horse, not sure if that would even be legal, he wins the knight in shining armor award. No matter how late it is, if my mom wants a snack with her evening tea, he’ll hitch up their dog and stroll down to the corner deli to get it for her. Now that is true love.
The piano in this photo is the one my mom, her mother and I all learned to play on. Perhaps one day my daughters will play it as well. In case you were wondering, the tea in the picture is a lovely mixed berry medley. I hope you have a melodious day!
