(no subject)
since as long as i can remember, my dad would come to pick me up from my mom's house. he would show up, i would declare that i was "almost ready!" then lazily scramble to grab my stuff. he would declare "Alrightie then!" and meander to the piano. and he'd play.
when i was 13ish, this bothered me. i'd only said one minute. GOSH. why did he have to play that annoying music?
as an adult, i realize this frustration comes because my dad is horrible at transitions--or time sense / people relaitons in general. he came to visit me last year, and we stopped by stop and shop on the way home. i lost him within 3 minutes. he just... wanders. in his own world. one which the 13 yr old me sometimes got frustrated at. i'd said one minute, but now we were waiting 10.
my mom is always 5-10 minutes early.
my dad is always 5-10 minutes late.
i'm usually right on time.
he rarely comes over to my mom's house anymore. 2, maybe 3, times has he had an occasion to play my mom's piano over the past 5 years. what an odd thing to type, but really, without me there why would he? i don't remember when the last time was, but i do remember slowly sitting on the staircase up to "my" (not at all anymore) room. i sat. i listened. i took it in. and realized that this was one of those inexplicable templates that are a core of who i am. i know it's core because it's intangible. that, if i listen closely enough, i can find traces of his music in the music i listen to now. something about the chord structure... it's simple music. a bit melodramatic, like a film score. but good.
i don't have him playing piano. but i did manage to capture this last christmas. singing a song from my childhood, composed just for me.
somedays, i miss the family i'm not sure i ever really had.
other days, i'm grateful for what was there, but not anymore.
multiple melodies, weaved and re-woven with each narrative
inherently a part of me
no matter what purple crayon lines i draw around it
faded, but true.
on a related note:
we are like the people we come from
we are dancing and advancing to the light
play it right
when i was 13ish, this bothered me. i'd only said one minute. GOSH. why did he have to play that annoying music?
as an adult, i realize this frustration comes because my dad is horrible at transitions--or time sense / people relaitons in general. he came to visit me last year, and we stopped by stop and shop on the way home. i lost him within 3 minutes. he just... wanders. in his own world. one which the 13 yr old me sometimes got frustrated at. i'd said one minute, but now we were waiting 10.
my mom is always 5-10 minutes early.
my dad is always 5-10 minutes late.
i'm usually right on time.
he rarely comes over to my mom's house anymore. 2, maybe 3, times has he had an occasion to play my mom's piano over the past 5 years. what an odd thing to type, but really, without me there why would he? i don't remember when the last time was, but i do remember slowly sitting on the staircase up to "my" (not at all anymore) room. i sat. i listened. i took it in. and realized that this was one of those inexplicable templates that are a core of who i am. i know it's core because it's intangible. that, if i listen closely enough, i can find traces of his music in the music i listen to now. something about the chord structure... it's simple music. a bit melodramatic, like a film score. but good.
i don't have him playing piano. but i did manage to capture this last christmas. singing a song from my childhood, composed just for me.
somedays, i miss the family i'm not sure i ever really had.
other days, i'm grateful for what was there, but not anymore.
multiple melodies, weaved and re-woven with each narrative
inherently a part of me
no matter what purple crayon lines i draw around it
faded, but true.
Click to viewon a related note:
we are like the people we come from
we are dancing and advancing to the light
play it right