I have much to do, I think, in preparing for the death of my aunt. I don’t think I have a lot of time.
God willing, I have all the time I need. I have squandered enough time, however, that I can’t get back and so I need to look forward, into the near future, towards what time I have. I almost can’t wait to tell Aunt Jeanne that I played piano in church on Sunday. She paid for my piano lessons and for the longest time I practiced on her piano in the living room. I remember being embarrassed as I played in the summer with the windows open, the sound wafting up and down the street, mistakes and all. I remember her sitting me down and asking if I was serious about piano. She explained that she was spending a significant amount of money on it and didn’t want to continue if I wasn’t serious about continuing. I guess I convinced her I was serious; the piano lessons continued. And boy was I serious. I spent a lot of time at the piano, playing with harmonies, later writing songs. Songs I would record in college. Songs that were of more interest to me than my studies in Biology. The songs are gone, now, but I grew from making them. And it was all due to the gift of music given to me by my aunt.
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