Last night was my favorite piano recital so far for our children. They each played so well. I could hear improvement in the areas they have focused their pratice this year, whether it is in expression, strengthening the hands, or dexterity. I thought I’d share a small part of my experience at this recital, even though it only focuses on one child. They ALL made us proud.
Daniel sat down to play at the grand piano at the small recital at our library. The room was full of young boys not far into their piano study. When they heard that one of Daniel’s songs had the word, “Wizard” in the title, there were excited whispers among the youngest of boys.
I smiled, knowing exactly what the notes were coming, having heard him play them for months. I expected that Daniel would play well and I trained my attention to the rows of children behind me and how they would respond.
However, when he began to play, I learned that my attention couldn’t be shared. The music drew me to it and I could think of nothing else. Daniel’s playing was affecting me in a dramatic way. When the dynamics soard in Grieg’s Wedding Day at Troldhaugen, I saw briefly the boys in my peripheral vision respond to its power, but my eyes filled with tears and could see no more that that. I realized that I was probably the one benefitting most from this music played by my son.
The phrases of music felt like a blessing, a benediction, a celebration of his years of work. I swept away tears with my fingers and applauded when he finished. I am wondering if it’s time to just embrace the tears that come more freely with the years, or to continue to try to hide them. Do I really want to hide tears of happiness?