The storm for the most part has passed, and the work begins. That is how I feel today. Lots of cleaning, lots of laundry, lots of thoughts floating in my head.
Music seems to be the one passion I can't shake. I've had this piano tagging along in my life for years, and I have tried to get rid of it, but would suddenly change my mind. There is this strange attachment that I have to it. Memories of my father belting out beautiful ballads, and everyone gathered around him listening with smiles.
My mother wanted me to learn to play it, or give it to someone who would take better care of it. I used the piano as an isle once, to do paintings on just to piss her off and refused to take a lesson or treat it with respect. It worked and she got mad. That made me happy. (yes I am a rotten child at times.)
I never had the desire to learn to play the thing. However, recently, I have decided to do just that while teaching my girls at the same time. I am not sure why, but I can't dwell on the why's. I just have to do it and let go of the questions.
Perhaps we can make memories that will stick in the minds of my girls, and perhaps they will some day drag it along where ever they go, use it, abuse it, and so forth.
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