I believe I am always cared for. It helps when I get proof.
My Monday morning started out rough. I felt really low on Sunday, hardly slept, woke up too early, and still was late to work. A transit delay extended my commute by more than an hour, plus I had to switch trains and routes.
Thus, me and my cloudy disposition emerged from the subway onto a different street than usual. The sun was so much brighter than my mood, and as I neared my office building, I wondered how I’d make it through the day.
Then I saw the pianos.
At first I thought it was some sort of musical mirage, but no. The vision was real: a multitude of painted pianos filled the normally empty plaza.
And not just pianos, but sheet music! And not just any sheet music, but Bach’s Prelude No. 1 in C major!
I could not have been given a greater gift. Once upon a time, for many years, I played the piano almost every day. I learned how to express my emotions through my fingers, and doing so brought me comfort.
Comfort that I sorely needed on Monday morning, and that I abundantly received. As if in a trance, I floated toward the nearest keyboard, set down my backpack and travel mug, and started to play the same notes I knew at seventeen.
As I did, my distress took a backseat to the present moment. I was completely in my body, totally aware of the miracle beneath my fingertips. A few minutes later I was back in the world and en route to work, but the experience stayed under my skin.
Later I learned that the pianos were part of Sing for Hope’s annual kickoff. They were only around for that one day (although they’ll be dispersed across NYC till June 19). And if I hadn’t had to change trains, I would not have seen them.
This #thankyouthursday, I am grateful for hope in all forms—particularly pianos.
Love > fear,
