Guilty as Charged?

I was enjoying Mr. Martin have his way with the piano this morning during a rendition of "Clocks."  

Anytime I am in the presence of a graced pianist it is not unusual for me to share my life long dream of playing the piano with anyone who will listen.  I begin to list the various reasons why I've always believed I could be accomplished at it and it's about this time that they "tune" me out-no pun intended.  

Have you seen how long and skinny my fingers are?  They could create and reach melodies previously undiscovered!

My thoughts turned to my sweet Sophia who just a month ago told Jason and I that she wanted to take piano lessons.

That morning I was on the Internet researching the best pianist in town for children under 5.  During our conversation I proudly told him that it was not my husband and I pushing lessons and that we had not even suggested it, Sophia had approached us.  

Similar to Christmas morning, I was as excited, if not more, than Sophia to watch her talent take shape.  10:00 could not come fast enough and we found ourselves in the car passing time because the studio wasn't open yet.  Every teacher that walked in while we waited for them to unlock the door was permanently etched in my memory for accurate recording when I would tell her story to Julliard.  The idea of my sweet girl potentially  being gifted in the arts consumed me.

I admire creative people.  I've since realized that I am a Marketer just to expose myself to them.  I cannot make anything,  I cannot sew, I cannot make a flower arrangement, my attempts at scrapbooks are comedic and all of this stems from an incurable lack of patience.  Each New Year finding patience makes the top of my resolution list and each New Year I do find a bit more.  I can strategize the positioning for the sale and long term profits of anyone's product like no other, but I simply cannot physically create items.

Back to the studio and my dreams (I mean Sophia's).

Mr. Martin and his band members showed me the writing on the wall this morning.  

Am I living out my dreams through my precious offspring?

Am I "Guilty As Charged?"

Even the casual observer at the studio would confirm the above allegation.  From the moment we entered the room, I had stars in my eyes.  The 24 year old skilled pianist walked us through his educational and professional training while I paced the small room in anticipation of his demonstration.  I put myself back on track and asked all the questions from my list.  Of course I made a list.  I am often paralyzed by my expectations of perfectionism that again stem from being the first born child.

He played a 5 minute classical piece that had Sophia, Juliet and myself just lost.  All ages and across generations, he filled that small room with such harmony.   His music gave life to a tranquil moment.

I was high.  As high as the evening that Jason and I won the 50/50 raffle at the Bulls Game and my smiling face was displayed on every single TV in the United Center.  And, I looked good that night, dare I compliment myself.

At this point,  he asked Sophia if she would like to sit down and he would show her the keys.  

Sophia confidently responded, "No thank you, I just want to play by myself, I already know how to do it all."

We closed that chapter, packed up and got into the car where she told me that she just wanted to play on the piano and didn't want someone to show her.  

Not surprisingly it also occurred to me that her ballet lessons last year could've been an unconscious attempt to make that dream come to fruition.  Sadly, I had been thinking about this for sometime.  

Each year, at the nutcracker, anyone who will listen to me will hear the plethora of reasons why I could've been a classical ballerina.  Surely my tall, somewhat lanky body would be a perfect fit.  Further fueling the legitimacy of my claim is that every single time I get a massage, the masseuse asks me if I am dancer.

The body that I see as lanky and untoned is momentarily transformed into one of great purpose-- a creative outlet in the arts!  A dancer!        

Please don't gift me with a massage certificate.  I end up spending just as much on the tip after compliments like that.

Perhaps my slender body would look graceful gliding across the ice with thin arms outreached and one long leg raised high.  Perfect symmetry.

Hmmm.....think I'll take Sophia ice skating this weekend.