Old Arthritic Fingers Fight to Smooth the Melody

Liver-spotted hands battle to reach a stretch of 12 notes.

She hears the music in her mind.

Soft at first, then a tiny crescendo increasing with the tempo. A glorious burst of joy before subsiding poco a poco to reach a perfect dolce.

A small smile creases the corner of her mouth.

Yes, she can hear it. In another lifetime, she could create it.

Now?

Yesterday, she worked at those two bars on a Chopin Prelude. It was perfect. Today? She reads the notes, fights to understand, starts again. Penciling in the names of the notes where it goes above the staff. Counting lines and spaces like she did when she was six years old.

Just once, she wants to play like she used to.

She buys a popular song from an online store. The Easy Edition.

Even that fails her. She should not need to look at the keyboard, only at the sheet music in front of her. She should know where the notes were, the keyboard imprinted on her mind.

No more.

She goes back. Buys the same melody but in the Super Easy Version.

This she can do.

Tears well up as she sits at the piano. First, practicing with the left hand. Over and over. Then, the melody. The right hand. Carefully, note by note. Following techniques drilled in an eon ago.

She remembers when it all started. With an upright Bechstein piano in her bedroom.

So many dreams she had. None survived.

And the music plays on.

Plagiarism checked by Grammarly. None found.

Ida Adams loves the Three L’s. Loving, Laughing, and Learning. Learning from life, laughing at herself, and loving the whole darn thing. She enjoys telling stories and sharing the lessons hidden in her messy yet amazing journey.