A New Melody

When I was 17, my mother was finally able to afford the piano she had wanted all her adult life. My younger sister and I started taking lessons immediately. My sister was pretty good. I could have been an average piano student if I’d practiced, but my life was already crammed full: I was pushing myself to be a straight A student, and I was active in church, Girl Scouts and programs for children with intellectual disabilities. What I remember most clearly about my first recital is that as I climbed the steps to the stage, I heard the loud whisper of a 7-year-old boy snickering, “She’s so old, she’s going to be really good!” Then I sat down and played my one-handed beginner’s melody.