When we first met, I was only in the third grade. I had heard of you, but I hadn't had the opportunity to really meet and get to know you. You were intimidating at first; you just seemed so . . . so . . . there isn't a word for how you seemed to me then.
When I first saw you, I was at gymnastics. I had just fallen, and I was losing interest. Soon, I would quit and I would become boring little Lindsey again, still looking for my true talent. I had nothing to offer, while you were in the window in between the practice area and waiting area, just beaming with potential. You just needed someone to bring out the real you. My mother was the one to first introduce us, but I didn't say much. Neither did you. In fact, Mom did most of the talking.
The next time I saw you was when I went to where we would meet every week. We worked well together; I kept trying, and you kept egging me on. By fourth grade, we were inseparable, and unstoppable. And that's when you first came to my house. Never will I forget the day when I came home and saw you there, my parents, Grandma, and family friends smiling at my reaction towards you. I was speechless. How could I have possibly known that you, the one thing I would always want, the one thing that would change my life forever, would be there, waiting for me.
Fifth grade my parents would get mad because I spent so much time with you. I wouldn't do chores, I didn't clean my room, and only on a rare occasion would I, an eleven year old girl, want to see my friends and hang out with them. You were the only thing I wanted; and I had you. Well, actually, you had me, wrapped around your finger. I would stay with you as long as I could until I had to go to bed, or eat dinner, or go to school.
Sixth grade was hard. I was so caught up in my homework and my mom's diagnosis of cancer. I was almost depressed and I didn't want to do anything except be with family. That was a rough year, but we managed. We had some hard times; my temper would get the best of me, and while you stayed patient, I would get frustrated. You wouldn't say anything. I would yell and thrash. But then I would calm down and we would meet again the next day to work things out.
Seventh grade was the hardest of all. My mom's cancer came back. My friends left me. And the guy I had cared for for so long had slipped through my fingers. You were my rock, the only true stable thing in my life. I hardly got to see you though. And that is what hurt badly. I wanted you all the time; I ached for you. And my parents ached for me to see you as well. They knew we were close, and they knew that I didn't want to stop being with you, but I just didn't have the energy or time to get to really know you again. We couldn't, and didn't, reconnect.
The first month or so of this eighth grade year was hard; just like seventh, we had our tough times. But we got back into routine, didn't we? And now, here we are. Together again and working better than ever! There are still no words for me to describe how important you are to me. And although you won't say anything back, I know that you will always be there. My resort. The place I can count on to go to, to find peace, when there is total chaos surrounding me.
Even though I may not get to see you everyday, but I see your cousin every week, that doesn't mean anything at all. We have history, forever etched into our lives, fates, and memories as I continue this journey called life. I will leave you someday; who knows, you may leave me first. But we will be reunited again; because music is something that cannot be killed. Piano has been there for me through everything. Now I have found my true talent, and I will embrace it everyday and keep it close to my side as my right hand man. Through my fingers you come back; sounding fuller and stronger than we had the last day, because I have improved a lot. I will always continue piano, and nothing can ever change that. We have history.
Remember music will always be with you,
sqeakers1
