Night and Day

When I was young I don't remember my parents talking to me. I also don't remember hanging out with too many other children my age. Mostly I remember playing with legos in a room alone, or upstairs in the attic pretending to be a teacher to my cabbage patch dolls. I also loved playing piano.

For awhile I had my own music room, back in Indiana. I loved it there, an entire room in the basement with a piano, and organ, and several bookshelves filled with music. It was funny trying to play the organ as my feet and fingers never really co-ordinated. To be honest, I wasn't very good at playing the piano either. I can read music and play a few actual classical peices, but my fingers just never grew out of there short stubby phase. I was never meant for greatness.

I just mostly sang alot, attempting to accompany myself. Hymns, showtunes, even just making up a melody when there wasn't one. The echo was great in that basement room, thin walls, thin carpet, just perfect. While most kids were wathcing MTV and shopping, I was alone in a basement room screaming my lungs out. Sometimes my dog, JD would come in an watch me, confused. Usually he was my only audience.

It was a great shock to me when we moved to New Jersey because our piano was placed in the living room, and half our music either was lost, stolen, or ripped to shreds. I didn't have my seclusion den. I didn't have my place.

I still feel that way, now in an apartment with no piano, no music to read, no place to hide. Although now I read aloud a lot when I am home alone and my cat stares at me, also confused.