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I was 16 years old and struggling with music, nothing seemed to work, everything was difficult. The art form demanded more of me and I was not prepared to agree to that so I quit.
I told my piano teacher that I was quitting piano. She said "okay, but I will see you back again". In my teenage mind I took that as a challenge and tried to quit as long as I could. (sigh)
So the first thing I did to survive is to take private lessons with the best theory, ear training teacher I knew. (So much for quitting). It was 3 years of singing, analyzing, harmonizing, composing, everything but playing the piano. After 3 years I understood music so much better that the only thing left to do was to play it again so as my piano teacher predicted I went back to her and asked for piano lessons again.
She said "okay please come next Thursday at 4:15pm". This was the same time and day I had before, also in the same room at the music conservatory.
I arrived there early I had brought my music, a Beethoven sonata, a Chopin nocturne, some Bach prelude and fugue, those were the pieces left unfinished 3 years ago.
When it was time for my lesson I knocked at the old wooden door and came in as it was customary. I sat on the ugly green sofa waiting for the student before me to finish.
My teacher greeted me, she was happy to see me but also brought some clarity to the moment. She said, "This is you spot, it is the only one I have available, 4:15 pm on Thursdays, and the reason it is is that the student who had it died last week in a car accident..."
I felt the room shifting on its axis, this was a renewed agreement something much deeper than before, something about life and death. There was nothing else to say, we sat down and started working on my music. She asked me what was the last thing we worked on 3 years ago and we started with that, finishing that intent first, I had brought the music.
Cyfnos