11:04 a.m. - Tuesday, Apr. 20, 2010
Spring in Christmas City
I pulled the cover off the beautiful Steinway piano in the quiet concert hall. I felt lost . . .I'll never play here again. I'll never sing here again. I rehearsed with the girls and then decided I couldn't practice anymore . . .so I went down to my car, planning to head home to do nothing.
But there was something in the air. It was cool and there was a beautiful breeze . . .but the sun was warm. I couldn't leave. Not yet. I drove down to the river. I took my music with me. I found my spot. A perfectly carved seat made of the roots of trees on the banks of the Monocacy. The ruins of 18th-Century Bethlehem above me. I planned my lesson. I would teach him grace-notes and voicings . . .phrasing . . .check his C-scale. Assign him a new piece. I watched the river for a while . . .the waves rippling over the rocky creek bed.
God, I love it here.
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