The Year of Me.
by Risa Green
I’ve been eager to write this post for a while, because it’s not every day that I actually have something new and exciting in my life on which to report. I was all set to write it about six weeks ago, but then the Horrible Tragedy of My Father occurred, which had the effect of halting my life, as if someone had pressed the pause button on me. Well, not pause exactly, because my life continued to run at warp speed despite my wanting to do nothing but cry under the covers all day, so maybe more like a targeted pause, where all of the regular things that had to happen – like driving carpool and making dinner and going to the market – kept happening, but everything else got put on hold until I was ready to deal again.
But anyway, here I am, ready to press the play button on my life again, and I’m picking up precisely where I left off six weeks ago, which is where I declare that this year is going to be the Year of Me. Meaning that, the last seven years have been dedicated to my children and doing everything that I can to teach them and better them and improve their lives. But now that my children are a little bit older (read: gone for six hours every day), I’ve been thinking a lot about how there are all kinds of things that I would like to learn, and be better at, and improve upon. So, instead of just lamenting this fact, I am actually going to do something about it. Which is why, right before the HToMF, I started taking piano lessons. And why, now that I am in play mode again, I’m going to continue.
The thing about piano is that I played for a few years when I was a kid, but I hated practicing and I didn’t really care, and so I quit when I was ten. But as I got older, I always wished that I had stuck with it, because I love music, and it makes me sad that I can’t sit down at a piano and play anything except for that song you play with your knuckles. So, I found this guy who teaches some of the kids at my daughter’s school, and five lessons later, I can play almost all of Lady Madonna at a speed that is somewhere between excruciatingly slow and Paul McCartney, if Paul McCartney were on quaaludes and had one hand tied behind his back. But still, I’m playing music. And I love it.