A blustery afternoon

I came home early today. My dentist appointment was at 3:00. When the drill stopped, with my temporary crown in place, my face cleaned up, and my next visit scheduled, it was too late to return to work. So, I drove home, looking forward to a few minutes at the piano before my Thursday evening group gathers in our moderator’s den. A salon of sorts, but less practical, just as much if not more, heady. None of those in our group live in the practical world. Some of us barely live in this world at all.

Ruby sat with me at the piano, plinking away in her 5-year-old’s way. I taught her to play a chord, C major. Her hands are so small that this was indeed, a stretch. Then she asked me to play something from the music on the stand. I told her those songs are difficult for me, but that I would play one of my own tunes. She sat as I played a recent beginning to a composition that started on the second day of the piano’s new home in our bedroom. I didn’t recognize until last week, that the song sounds Russian. When I did, it hit me that the piano had written the song for me, being Russian and all. Not being able to read Russian, I still don’t know the manufacturer of the piano. I just know that it not only speaks to me, but apparently writes songs for me, as well.

Ruby left to help Anna with something in the kitchen, and as I was closing the bedroom door, I said, “What a blustery afternoon.” The wind has been blowing for a few days now – that gentle, comforting autumn wind that I love. Ruby asked her mom, “What does blustery mean?” As Anna’s voice began the definition, the door connected with the jamb, and I was alone with the wind, audible from the two exterior doors from my room to the outside, where blowing leaves reminded me of all the autumns when Nat and Owen were kids, and Halloween was whispering just beneath the surface.

I played part of the score to “To Kill a Mockingbird” – not on the piano, but on my computer. At once, I was 22, watching the movie in my living room on Craig Street in Pasadena. Still feeling like I’m 22, but with 53 years of life behind me, and who knows how many in front, I thought it might have killed me back then, if I’d known what was to come.   Mom’s been gone 7 years today.  A blustery afternoon, indeed.

Song for the night: Catch the Wind, Donovan (Owen discovered Donovan late, but liked his music a great deal, “…ah but I may as well try and catch the wind.”)


~ by Linda on October 9, 2008.

3 Responses to “A blustery afternoon”

  1. Isn’t it merciful that we can’t see into the future (or not very far into it?) I wonder if we would have the courage to face the things that lie ahead, if we were able to see them in advance? It is better not to know…to live life as it unfolds, and to take each day’s sorrows and joys as they come. I guess that’s why God gives us grace for each day, and not grace for a liftime… Lonnette

  2. lifetime (darn it) LOL!

  3. Thank you, Linda. That song took me places, although I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it before. It’s one of those nights, for sure.

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