My mom signed me up for Piano lessons when I was 4. It was expected, my brother had been playing piano since inside the womb and it just seemed fitting that I would follow suit. In all honesty, I didn’t really have the traditional Asian kid piano prodigy experience.

I never had the metronome driven Piano teacher Nazi. I only practiced about 15 minutes before my weekly lesson… But I fended pretty well, I’ve had the pleasure of playing through the pages of the classical staples— Beethoven’s “Fur Elise”, Bach’s “Solfeggietto.” It wasn’t until senior year that I finally started appreciating tickling the ivories. A shame really but what can I say.

I sat down in the music rooms today and spent some time with the piano. There’s something about making music rooted in your own passion—a lesson so many realized so early, a lesson that took me 19 years (actually to the date) to realize. Getting lost in the sounds, losing yourself in the movement of the keys under your fingers as if they were an extension of your body moving under reflex, it’s something I wish I had always relished in.

I plan to get back into it, nothing too unrealistic, just a half hour here and there with a new appreciation for the opportunity I’ve always had. Hopefully, I’ll have space for a keyboard in my room next year wherever I end up. Maybe Taylor and I will finally be able to start that 80s cover band…

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