The Plight of a Pianist: Part Deux

The other day as I ran across a field during a lightning storm with rain stinging me from all sides and thunder booming in my chest, I couldn’t help but smile. I ran past the guards and straight into the sanctuary to find my friend.
I had stopped by Assemblies of God Church earlier in the day as I walked home from the grocery store, “just to take a look around”, which in my dictionary means, “just to see if they have a piano.” When I saw the baby-grand sitting on an empty stage, the rush of excitement wasn’t that of “OH MY GOD I HAVENT SEEN YOU IN SO LONG HOW ARE YOU?!?!?! LETS TALK!!!” It was more of a silent conversation, the kind that lives solely in the eyes, the kind that you have with those friends you only get to see every few months but know you the best. The friends that know exactly how you feel without you having to say a word, the friends that are family. This deep understanding is the only thing I can equate my relationship with piano to these days. And just like those friends that you get to see sparingly, when the reunion finally occurs it’s as if nothing has changed, like you haven’t missed a beat.
I would consider my Malawian plight as a pianist even more difficult than in South Africa, as many of the churches use small keyboards and the (few) nice hotels do not have pianos (I’ve looked). Instruments are very hard to come across here, and to buy them would mean paying an exorbitant amount of money as they are imported (most likely from South Africa). Thus, I have resorted to listening to more piano music and writing things like this about my friend, the piano. Someday, my friend and I will live in the same house again, and I can wake it up in the middle of the night if I need to, joke around with it if I need to, spend hours a day with it if I need to, or leave it for a few days if I need to, knowing it will understand all of those scenarios. When my friend and I are together, old inside jokes come up, we remember the times when we lived in the same place and manage to find common ground despite the time apart. To focus on the time apart is torture; so when the itch gets really bad and you just want to call that friend, even though it will cost you, that can mean running through a field with lightning all around. Despite how “rational” I have been when it comes to playing piano here, there is a time and a necessary place for what some may deem irrational. However, to me a friendship of this caliber is not qualified by what crazy lengths one must go to for physical proximity; a friendship of this caliber need not be qualified at all. I easily could have stayed at home, but the impending storm outside urged me on and I made an informed decision that yes, it is time I visit this friend. It has been far too long.

So to my friends which are far away:
The music will still be there when we are reunited, and many of the songs will be the same. There will just be some new songs that I will want you to hear, and most importantly, ones that I can’t wait for you to play.