One thing that brought the two of us so close was our love of the piano. Far back beyond what I can even remember we have pictures of the two of us sitting at her piano - she's patiently showing me how to press the keys and make a song. She played so beautifully! Great big flourishes, small quiet passages... and she was all self taught. She truly played from the heart, always. You could hear every emotion known to humans at one point or another in her playing. I loved listening to her play. My parents started me in lessons when I was three years old (I don't remember NOT playing the piano) and I know she was so proud of that. As I got older, I got shyer and didn't like to play in public - just for my family. About a year or two before she died, I decided there was nothing to be afraid of and started to play in public again. After my first performance, which she of course came to, she said I played beautifully and she was so proud of me. Funny how great that statement from her made me feel.
When she died, I so gratefully inherited her piano - the one she taught me to play when I was little. I lived with it for the past three years and played it almost every day. I will swear to you, SWEAR!, that I play better on that piano than I play on any other piano. My sister is babysitting it while I'm in my tiny apartment in New York with no room for it but I went over to her house and played it over Christmas break. I can't wait until the day it can live with me again. Everything just sounds so much better on it! I feel so close to her when I play it too. Music binds people together - I know she's entwined in my heart always, but I feel her even more when tickling those ivories.
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