Ever since she was a little girl, Violetta’s fingers had gently caressed the ivory keys of the piano in the living room. Her mother’s friend taught lessons, and one day after Giana caught Violetta lingering by the instrument she signed her up to learn.
Every day, Violetta practiced after dinner. She sat on the bench, reverently opened her sheet music, and began. Her teacher marked the pieces she was to practice after every lesson, but the music called to her in a way she couldn’t explain, and she always tried more advanced pieces. Her teacher would always smile suspiciously at her when they started a new piece.
“Violetta, did you work ahead?” She would ask as Violetta’s fingers flew a bit too easily over the keys and her feet pumped the pedals in time to a ‘new’ piece.
At first, she played nursery rhymes and ditties, but soon she was on to hymns, and before long she was playing what she’d always dreamed of playing: classical concertos and musical numbers. By the age of twelve, even the austere nuns at St. James’s Grammar School were happily utilizing Violetta’s talents as an accompanist for the Spring Musical. A sister would sneak furtively into her class and say, “Come, child,”(the universal summons from every nun) before leading her into the auditorium to play.
Violetta loved the music- every note, every octave, every piece was a new joy. Her mother loved it too, and loved Violetta for loving it. When the time came, Giana wanted Violetta to go to Juilliard. Violetta knew she could go. She had the skills and the love for the music- she could be a performer, or an accompanist. She could spend her life tickling the keys, caressing the most beautiful of sounds out of them. It was tempting. But it wasn’t enough.
Next week, I’ll post Dream #2 to continue this storyline!