someone else's piano

There was a time in my life, not that long ago, when I worked for someone that owned a grand piano. We worked out of his home. It was a large condo with the equipment we needed to produce a still formulating idea of a kids' educational show. His daughter was also my responsibility, and we would often times take walks in the park or play with the pool balls on the pool table when working came to a standstill or the day was just that nice. Sometimes the dad and daughter would not be around, and I'd be in that house by myself. And this is when I would play.

I was embarrassed to play at any other time, mainly due to the mastery of the owner of the instrument. How do you paint in front of Rothko? How do you sing in front of Fitzgerald? So instead I poked around in the cracks of silence I would find in that home in those days. The way the sound filled the air was startling at first... the power of such a large organic instrument intimidated me, but it was this intimidation that lured me closer.

My time there ended before I could know the piano well. I hope one day to meet it again, when the time is right and I dont have to wait for the cracks of time to open up in secret.