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When I heard the piano, I walked to Mrs. Windsor's house and
waited outside as I always did. That meant she was working with another
student, and I was not supposed to bother them by ringing the bell. I stood
against the wall and daydreamed what I'd rather be doing. "Almost anything",
I sighed dejectedly. I had been tutored enough to read, understand, and
even write some musical compositions, but I just didn't have a gift for it. It
didn't come to me naturally. I thought back to happier times when I was writing
stories and acting them out with my friends, cutting up old clothes to make
dresses that performers wear in plays, and building scenery out of old things
we found. But Mrs. Windsor had offered to give me the lessons for free, so I
felt my duty to try.
The door opened and Wendy Barton came out. I walked in, sat
down on the piano bench and began to sort through my sheet music.
"Hello," I heard a voice behind me say softly. I
turned around to see a little girl standing behind me, eating an apple. But
before I could make any response, Mrs. Windsor walked into the room in her
usual urgent manner and announced, "Jennifer, this is my niece, Pasha.
Pasha, this is Jennifer. Pasha will be giving you your lesson today. I'm up to
my ears in something else!" she then exited to the kitchen.
Pasha set her apple
down on the side table and slid beside me on the piano bench.
"What piece do you like best?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "They're all the
same to me. I don't know.
"You mean you don't have a favorite?"
"No, not really."
Pasha looked at me, rather puzzled, then opened my sheet
music to the beginning page and asked me to play. I arranged my fingers on the
keys and studied the notes on the page for a moment. Then I frowned and
concentrated to make the notes on the page match the finger movements. I have
to admit I was a rather mechanical pianist.
After about a page or two, Pasha gently put her hand on top
of mine as if to calm my fingers. There was a long pause. "What are you
hearing in the music?" I looked at her rather strangely and admitted I
didn't know what she meant.
"Like a story. What story is being playing out within
the music?"
"I guess I've never thought about it before. I don't
know."
"Here, let me try and you listen," Pasha advised.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her
fingers dance lightly over the keys. Then, she began to play. "See, it
begins here beside some kind of river. Hear the water flowing beside you?"
Her fingers rose and fell gently on the keys. "Now the
princess appears and she's picking flowers from the water's edge." A
carefree, happy piece of music filled the air in time to Pasha's dancing
fingers. "Oh, but she slips!" The music changed. "And our princess
is being carried off by the fast-flowing stream. Quickly, the princess's horse
sees her plight (困境)," Pasha continued, "and races to the river's
edge where he swims out to let her catch hold of him. They make it to the bank
and she hugs her faithful horse and swears she will never again wear princess
skirts that weigh her down." Pasha finished with a big smile and then
looked at me.
"Aren't you
the girl who tells the stories?" she asked.
"I guess. I do tell a lot of stories."
"Oh, yes! All the kids talk about them. I've heard
about you. Well, all you have to do is learn to hear the stories in the music.
That's all there is to it."
"I've never thought it that way."
"Let's try another one, shall we?" Pasha smiled
and together we played that afternoon, finding the stories in the music and
learning that sometimes it takes a friend to pull you out of the river onto dry
land again.
