So, I was drafting the “about” pages for this new blog and mentioned historical posts I had made under various blogs of the same original title of Moonlight. That got me going back to look at some of my posts (as far back as November 2005).
One post I found was something called “Confessions”. It was a meme, so to speak, where people tagged their readers after giving a series of statements confessing things that no one, or at least very few people, knew about.
There were two comments on the post – the first from a friend who said it was good to “have me back” so to speak as this post took place after considerable hiatus. The second comment was my reply stating I missed my “therapy sessions”.
That got me thinking about how I used my writing to get me through some pretty rough times. The anonymity was comforting because very few people knew who I was. This time, I’ve been a bit more revealing about my identity and due to the small town nature around me, I will have to be a bit more diplomatic about certain complaints I may make. Ah, but diplomacy is my middle name. Or maybe not.
But in any event, there was one more task that I loved to set my hands to when frustration threatened to overwhelm me and that was playing the piano. It’s been so long that I don’t even remember the songs I had memorized or even the names of all the chords. It’s been so long that the keys feel unfamiliar under my fingertips.
Oh how I loved to strike out notes to form a song in my moments of angst and despair, hope and love, frustration and solitude.
I guess that’s part of the reason why typing on the keyboard has had a similar effect. Only the computer keyboard doesn’t feel so foreign right now.
I have access to a piano lately, but due to my long time absence, I’m really feeling at a loss as to what to play when I sit down. I struggle with a sense of a missing limb when I see the piano and can’t think of what to play. It’s very strange… I hope one day to remember the songs I used to play, and to learn new songs to keep the joy of playing alive in my spirit. Perhaps I’ll be able to teach Abby a few things and at least pass on the gift of music.
