There was the summer I turned 19. The sleek grand piano, black and shiny in the middle of the room, right near the glass doors which led to the porch which led to the sand which led to the ocean.
I remember how the piano looked when you played it, but (oddly) not how you looked. It went from non-living to living, inanimate to animate, lonely to powerful.
The way that song begins was always amazing to me. It sounds like the beginning, but you have no idea.
It’s just like life, I think.
I remember that summer thinking there were superficial reasons for why I liked you, but then you played that song on the piano and I knew there was more. Over the years I would learn that you had some kind of magic in you; it made things look nicer, taste better, sound prettier. Like you knew how to take the basicness out of the basicness of the world.
There is this quote I love – “There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.”
It makes me wonder if there is also a time when you believe everything has begun, and that is the end?
That is how it was with you.