This New Language

Little Bean Steps Up To The Keys

I lean in close to her ear and whisper, “Are you sure about this?”

She looks up at me irritated, her wide eyes communicating to me that she’s got this.

“You can just take the music book up with you just in case.”

“No.” That’s all she says. No.

A couple rows behind me, my wife is gesturing toward Little Bean’s music book. I point at my temple and shake my head, hoping my gesture is understood as she says she has it memorized. I shrug. My wife shrugs. It’s up to the kid.

Her turn eventually comes - she’s the fourth recital student at the piano - and right before she settles in, she does this little flip with her sweater, like Liberace. I hold my breath and she begins to play.

She has a five song solo set that includes “Hot Cross Buns,” which I’ve heard a million times on her recorder, her guitar, her steel drum and now on this Yamaha piano. She could play the song upside down with her eyes closed.

But she also rips into “Yankee Doodle Dandy” and this song called “River Dolphins” which is tinkly and sweet like raindrops. I snap a few pics and record maybe ten or fifteen seconds, but I don’t know, I just want to listen.

The piano echoes in the church, a space that was made for sound, and the audience - all parents and families of other students - are quiet and respectful.

My baby plays a piano to an audience, in an old church with her own friends and mom and grandpa there, and it feels like a miracle. And when she’s finished, she does one of those things with her hands, like she’s been taught, giving the whole thing a little flourish.

Did she get every note right? No. Did she remember it all, by memory? Yup.

The crowd applauds as the last note echoes, she takes one step off her bench and gives a little adorable bow, and it’s done. On her way back to her seat she crosses in front of me and I resist the urge to throw my arms around her. Instead I offer my hand, palm out and she smiles and gives me a high five.

Later, during a little reception in the church basement, I say to her, “You remembered it all.”

“Told you,” she says.

“I shouldn’t have doubted.”

She heads off to mingle with the other kids from the recital and they transform back into kids, doing hand stands and eating sugar.

What will come of this? I don’t know. But this weekend, we’ll get our faces melted by one of her favorite rock bands, Plush. We’ll interview another up and coming rock band, Sorrowfuse. She’ll continue with piano practice through the summer and next year, in fourth grade, she’s told us that she wants to give violin a try.

As long as music speaks to her, we’ll pursue this new language and follow the path wherever it takes us.

The other day, as my wife and I discussed this growing interest, she offered, “Maybe she could give bag-pipes a try.” I wouldn’t be opposed, though our neighbors may think differently.

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End Notes: A special note of thanks and gratitude to Cassandra Pepler, Little Bean’s music teacher, who has taken the kid on this journey - a journey I might add, that I am unable to take her on. So, I’m so glad she found someone as talented and kind as Cassie to shepherd her along. Cassie’s music studio is called Grand 88 and if you want more info, please leave something in the comments or drop me an email and I’ll get you in touch with her!