TEARS IN MY TIM HORTON’S COFFEE CUP

Whaletone-Grand-Piano

It would be bad manners to brag about my child in front of real live people, and point out the obvious: that she was indisputably the best performer in some random charity concert, so I may do it here, in the comfortable private intimacy of my blog, my thinly-disguised “Secret Diary- Keep Out“.

The princess played the Bear Necessities, faltering only a couple of times. She walked on the stage comfortably, resplendent in a pink t-shirt, thrift-store skinny jeans, tattered black boots. A pink bobbie pin in her hair. She waved shyly yet in a friendly manner to the audience, and said “Hi!”. The audience laughed and said hi back.

That “hi” did it for me- tears of pride and fear for her future welled out of my eyes, spilling into my coffee cup. What is going to become of her? How can she look so vulnerable and yet so comfortable and happy at the same time? Where did she learn to enjoy playing the piano for an audience so much? As she finished, she gave a huge grin, and waved again as she skipped off the stage.

The contrast was especially noticeable with the other “young artists” who performed before and after. The scowling child who banged out some fancy Mozart piece while glaring at the instrument before her, the emo teenaged boy who acted  as if he was fainting over the keyboard, bending and contorting his body as he “improvised”. Calm down, young man. You’ll pull a muscle.

It was the first time she had played on a grand piano. As we walked out of the concert hall, she told me how she would buy one, to go in the big house we are buying once I graduate and find a job. More tears, this time in my head.

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