An old lady came over to your house every Wednesday. Wednesdays were when I would sit down on my front porch and hear misplayed piano keys and frustrated groans coming from your living room. It’s already the 10th Wednesday of the year; and I have heard the same Titanic piece being played over and over again but you still never got it right. Darling, you kept forgetting that you don’t hit that E note once. It’s twice. I wish I could run over there and guide your fingers to perfection but the best I could do was admire your beautiful mistakes from a distance.
Whenever I would hear footsteps walking down your front door, I’d rush inside my house and watch from outside my window as you said goodbye to your teacher. She must have had experience on a lot of children or grandchildren because I don’t think anyone would have that much patience to try and teach you piano. It still makes me laugh how your mother made you take up piano after your great grandfather because everybody knows that you would die trying to play even just the triangle. You were never a musician, just very athletic.You always look like you did a 10K run after every piano session when in reality, your track practice was only on Fridays. Your weariness never stopped you from waving back with a smile and I always admired how you were like that around people. You walked back inside your house and I pulled down my curtains as I wondered why I knew so much about you, when I never found the courage to be friends with you.
– An Excerpt from a Story I’ve Never Written