It didn’t last long. Thirty-eight seconds or so.
But the duet my daughter played with her piano teacher was music–like real notes and stuff…and it was beautiful.
Half a count after the last note, my daughter sprung from the bench, bowed haphazardly in the direction of the piano and then eyed the floor shyly as she crept back to her seat.
I smiled real big.
And–minus the child with fish lips and his slacks on backwards–we all did.
It’s what you do–I guess–when you’re so happy for a little girl who’s…who’s so happy to be playing the piano.