The black and white keys.

I heard the doorbell rang, signaling the start of a lesson, the same one I have every week. I opened the door and found myself face to face to an average height women, and that was the start to my friday night routine.

I opened the lid of the piano, the lid was black, pitch black. It was a mask, covering and hiding the piano’s true identity. I played the piano since I was a kid, and the lid of the piano just seemed to get heavier and heavier every day.

I lifted the lid on the piano, removing its mask and allowing it to expose itself. The piano was an instrument with black and white keys. One key was so close next to another key that made me wonder how it was made. Black, white, black, white. The contrasting colours of the keys on the piano repeating like a never ending road. Every key was so similar but yet so different, each like a person itself. I place my hands on the piano, the keys felt so smooth, like a puzzle clicking into its place. A sheet of music was put in front of me, telling me to start playing. Every lesson was like a level in a game, you complete the assigned things on the list, you pass. And if you don’t, the list will be postponed to the next lesson.

I started playing the notes on the sheet, bringing each and every note alive. Those marks on the sheet of paper are more than just little dots and squiggles, they are each an important member of a big family. Without any one of the notes, the piece would be incomplete, the family would be apart. I played the first line, then the second, then one after another. My fingers bounced off the keys like a child on a trampoline. I continued on to the last line, confidently playing the last note. I looked at my teacher, she responded with a nod, which till now, I fail to understand her facial expressions.

Standing up, I took the sheet of paper off the stand, replacing it with another piece of paper. And again, I played the short piece as I was instructed to. But this time, struggling with a few notes, replaying and correcting every few seconds. I looked to my right, where my teacher was standing, I got a few looks and glances from her, that was all.

I looked across the piano and at the multicoloured clock on the wall, “eight thirty” it said. It was the end of the lesson, I stood up, closed the piano lid and said goodbye.

Closing the door, I sighed, another lesson finished.



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