Harmony Anonymous

Entering the music room in LaGuardia Community College for the first time, I sit down before the upright piano and take out Mozart's Fantasy in D Minor. It is a simple piece, but one of my favorites. It consists of three parts, the first with a slow tempo that allowed me to get used to the keys. My fingers stretch from one chord to another, regaining their flexibility after months of idleness. As I step on the pedal, the melodious pattern of notes produces a heavenly harmony. It was then that I forgot the aggravations of piano, remembering only why I found peace in the mellifluous sounds of classical music.

I remembered that it was only six short months ago. I watched with a growing grin as the U-Haul truck headed down the road, carrying my piano to its new home. After ten years of playing, I gleefully thought to myself that the vexation was finally over. I would no longer have to practice for two hours everyday; nor would I have to play one or two lines of music repeatedly, only to give up in complete frustration and force myself to try again the next day. With an almost intense hatred of the piano back then, who would have thought that I would begin to miss the music? Yet there was an aching in me that kept growing...