Daytime Moonlight Sonata

As my parents are on their way out, I patiently wait in my bedroom waiting to hear our front door close. Then finding myself in the dining room, standing before our lovely, dark wood piano, I gently pull out the bench and swing my legs around, my right foot landing naturally on the rightmost pedal.

This is the position in which I found myself on a Saturday afternoon just after my parents had left to watch a college lacrosse game. As usual, before I pressed down any keys, which that day were the opening chords to “Can’t Help Falling In Love”, I leaned back on my bench to be sure that the front door was truly closed and I was truly alone.

When I was little, I didn’t have a care in the world as to who would hear me play. In truth, I often enjoyed the enthusiastic applause I would receive from my parents after finishing my scales and Finger Power exercises. My piano recitals would be filled with simplified C major versions of Bach and Mozart and when I had finished, I would turn around with a proud smile on face.

On this particular Saturday, however, the only reason I was playing the piano was because the only person I was performing for was me.

So after I checked and double checked that my notes were falling upon nonexistent ears, I began to play my pop music repertoire. I had gotten used to looking up songs on YouTube and learning the simple chord progressions while I sang along with the melody. I usually enjoyed playing only chorus after verse and verse after chorus, content with being restricted to four bars of the same four chords and an occasional sprinkling of eighth notes courtesy of my right hand.

But for some reason, that day I was unsatisfied with my overused performance. I first turned to my list of “Songs To Learn” but each replicated the simplicity of songs I had already learned. Next, I ran through songs in my head I remembered having at least a few bars of interesting piano and I came up with Michael Jackson's “This Is It”. But unfortunately, all the online sheet music was at least $10.00. And how could I explain to my parents that I spent $11.99 at sheetmusicnow.com and then refuse to play them the song I had bought?

Following this disappointment, I recalled the numerous music books that were waiting under me at that very moment. I swung my legs back around and stood up, simultaneously lifting the lid of my seat, and I imagined cobwebs in the corners and years of dust clouding my eyes as I opened the bench.

I searched through the heap of music books, digging past color coated practice volumes, my father’s guitar and dulcimer music, and the Star Wars and Adele piano books I had received as presents, I found the Best of Beethoven. Curious, I opened up to the index to search through the songs. “Moonlight Sonata” caught my eye instantly and I turned to page 5.

As soon as I began playing, even with the wrong notes and the triplets sounding pretty “clunky” at first, it somehow felt flawless. The keys were magnetic and my fingers buzzed with electricity. My entire body was filled with resonance and warmth from the music magically rising from my fingertips.

That afternoon, I played “Moonlight Sonata” countless times, wanting to get the dynamics just so and to stop being afraid of the page turn. When I checked my timing and saw my parents were due home any minute, I forced myself to return the book to its proper station. Switching off the light on my way back upstairs my brain was calculating when I would next get a chance to play. I thought to the next weekend when my parents would most likely go out to another game and became excited thinking once again I could play “Moonlight Sonata”. Although now I wasn’t waiting until I was alone because I was embarrassed or nervous or so on about playing in front of my parents. This time, I wanted to be alone so that I could enjoy the music completely and fully, not having to be aware of anything else in the world.

Author's Note

Personal narrative I had written for class that I felt like sharing!

Reviews

[Dave]

Whether anyone hears or listens, I envy you. I would love to be able to play the piano, but alas I don't or can't read music. I urge you to keep practicing eventually you may garner the courage to have your parents listen to you. I'm sure you would delight them.

Take care - Dave

[Anjali]

Hmm.... Interesting. The way you have written this and the way you have shown your love towards music is beautiful... And I loved it.