In the key of scream

We didn’t have a piano.

There was nothing noisy like that allowed in our house.

But, bored at some large adult gathering my parents had dragged me to, I wandered off to explore the strange house.

And found their piano.

Struggling my five or six year old body up onto the player bench, I nudged a key. And waited for someone, somewhere in the house, to tell me to stop. I was always being told to stop.

The call didn’t come. Only hearing the far away din of chatter, I pressed another.

And soon, I was plunking away. On every key.

Paying specific attention to the low keys, I liked the way they boomed. Deep soulful howls.

An old man whom I didn’t know wandered into the room. He scuffled over and sat next to me on the bench, facing the other way. And I stopped.

“Yah, man” he said, looking at me and smiling. “Beautiful music. Play it.”

And so, I kept booming away. Him next to me, nodding his head and smiling, with his eyes closed.