Tag Archives: Memories

Piano Lessons

3 May

For most of my life, I have taken piano lessons. The first time I ever touched a piano was when I was 6; I started lessons when I was 8. In all honesty, when my parents asked if I wanted to play an instrument, what I really wanted to play was the guitar. But my mom is a classical music fan, and persuaded me to choose the piano. Thus, began my long, tear-filled journey of piano lessons.

I am not a fan of classical music. At all. I’m a through and through Country gal. Looking back, taking guitar lessons would have made a lot more sense. But at the time, I was quite easily persuaded. My first teacher wanted his students to enjoy what they were playing. So technique-wise, I learned nothing. After 3 or 4 years, I stopped with him, and got a different teacher. This new teacher is the one I blame for the tears.

He was young and strict and moody. By the end of every lesson, I would be in tears. Tears that I fought hard to control, but it was a losing battle from the start. I was (and still am) an extremely sensitive person, and his insults did nothing to help my growing hatred of the piano. Even when he praised me on a piece well played, all I could hear were “I have students younger than you who can play better” and “You will never be good at this”. My mom was no help either. “If you’d practice more, you’d get better”, “You can’t play with friends until you practice the piano. He said you have to practice at least 3 hours every day” and “Stop wasting money”.  To be fair, I did learn a lot about how to play the piano when I was with him.

To any sane person looking in, the solution would be simple. If you hate it so much, and if it causes so many fights (every single fight I have ever had with my parents stems from the piano), why don’t you just stop? The answer? Because I can’t. It has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. As much as I hate it, I can’t let go. It is a part of who I am, and if I stop, I too, will die. It seems overly dramatic. But it’s true. It has become such a huge part of me that if I were to stop, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

I found a new teacher, and have been with him for almost a year. I enjoy it, but slowly, the fights are starting again. Things as simple as my dad refusing to drive me (it takes close to 2 hours to get there by public transport) to (once again) the “fact” that I am “wasting money”. Whether I like it or not, piano lessons have become a part of me, and I know that it will continue to be until the day I die, whether it be soon or a long time away. That, I do not know, but what I do know is that I can never stop.

 

perfectlonelyworld

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Nostalgia

6 Apr

It’s a funny thing ain’t it,

To long for something that’s no longer there,

No way to return nor get it back,

Yet that longing still remains.

Like a veil over our eyes

That is ignored but never overlooked,

It stays like a throbbing pain,

Blurring our focus,

Our vision,

Our path.

Longing for what we can never have,

For it is the past that we cannot touch,

Once passed, never to return,

Yet that longing surrounds us.

We reach but can no longer feel

As our hands pass through time,

While our present goes by before our eyes,

But it is not seen, only to be saw.

Out of grasp but we do not notice,

Hoping for a miracle to save us,

Revive us,

Resurrect us.

While we are alive but not living,

Memories are the safe haven

And the doom to our existence,

Yet that longing is in our core.

It takes over and we cease to exist,

Becoming who we wish not to be,

We cannot stop as it invades

Our being and our soul,

For it is the devil disguised as the good,

And without looking back we fall,

We tumble,

We collapse.

We think it will save us,

Times that were simple

We long to go back,

And the tea is bittersweet.

We are hooked to the drug,

Never stop reaching – it is all we know,

It overpowers and destroys what we once were,

That longing is who we are.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Drifting Away

19 Mar

We used to be so close. We’d barely go a day without talking to each other. Now, we hardly speak, and when we do, the conversation’s strained and unnatural. I can feel us drifting apart. I can see us getting farther and farther away from each other. I know that if I tried, if I reached out a hand, maybe I could still save it, and pull us together again. But I don’t. Because when I try, there’s no response. I text you, but you don’t answer.  I muster up the courage to call your number, but it goes straight to voicemail. And after, I feel embarrassed. Embarrassed to be naïve enough to think it could go back to the way it used to be. Embarrassed that you seem to have moved on while I, I’m still stuck on the same path you left me on. I see you sometimes, with other people, laughing, and I’m saddened by the sight. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, and I can’t help but remember all the times you’d laugh like that when we were together. Or how I could talk to you after a long, hard day and everything would suddenly become a whole lot better. I guess I just miss you. But in the end, I’m too tired to try to get you back. And maybe you don’t even notice it, but I do. I notice the cracks on the ground where we stand. I notice the wrinkles that have formed on the fabric. And I want to hold you close to me. But instead, I let go, and watch you drift farther and farther away.

 

perfectlonelyworld

If I Had Known

5 Mar

It’s been exactly 5 years since I saw you for the last time. It was a Tuesday night. I wore a new coral colored shirt. I remember being in the car, driving to go see you. I wanted her to come with me. But she didn’t. I remember riding in the elevators to go to your floor, and I remember getting lost. You were on the third floor.

If I had known it would be my last time seeing you, I wouldn’t have said that I needed to go to the bathroom, when I really just needed some air. I wouldn’t have went to the hallway, pacing back and forth, trying to think straight. Because if I hadn’t, it would have meant 5 more minutes with you. If I had known it would be my last time feeling your touch on me, I would have hugged you harder. I would have given you a kiss. (I remember you saying “If it weren’t for these tubes, I’d kiss you.”) If I had known it would be the last time I would get to hear your voice, I would have listened more carefully, memorizing your voice.

I wrote you a poem. And I read it at the funeral. I remember eating poutine for the first time in my life before going to the funeral home. At your funeral, there was so many people. You had touched every single one of their lives in some way. There were 3 people sitting on the couch. Your daughter was there. There was some crying. I cried. But we laughed too. And we smiled. We thought of all our memories of you. It was bittersweet.

I miss you. You were my friend when I was mostly alone. You helped me. You helped my family. I’ll always remember sitting in your living room on Sundays, watching cartoons and eating cheese puffs. I remember coloring pictures in your kitchen. I remember your birthday 3 years before you died. We drove to see you again. And I remember you said that you were looking forwards to the next 10 years.

There’s some things that I can no longer remember. I can no longer hear your voice, a voice that was once so comforting to me. At times, I can’t see your face. And this, this thought that you will slowly be forgotten, terrifies me. You should have been here for at least 7 more years. If I had known that you would be gone, I would never have taken any thing for granted. It’s been 5 years.

God saw him getting tired

When a cure was not to be,

So he closed his arms around him

And whispered come to me.

 

In tears we saw him sinking,

We watched him fade away,

Our hearts were truly broken,

He fought so hard to stay.

 

But when we saw him sleeping

Peacefully and free from pain,

We could not wish him back

To suffer that again.

 

So close your arms around him Lord,

And give him special care,

Make up for all that he suffered

That seemed to us unfair.

 

So many times we’ve needed him,

So many times we’ve cried,

If love could have saved him,

He never would have died.

 

perfectlonelyworld

The First Snowfall

1 Mar

Soft flakes drifting lightly

Towards the white covered ground,

Forming a beautiful blanket

That is gentle and tender.

 

The wind murmurs in the air,

Ever so lightly, barely there,

Turning little noses the color of blood,

As snow continues to fall.

 

Bells jingle and wind chimes ring,

The smell of cinnamon at every turn,

Children sit with mugs of hot chocolate

To watch the first snowfall of the year.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Meant To Be

20 Feb

It’s been two years since

Most have moved on

But you’re still living

Like it was yesterday

 

You blame yourself for what happened,

Never letting go

Thinking you could have stopped it

But you’ve got to know

 

[Chorus]

It’s not your fault,

You’re not to blame

And maybe someday, somewhere

You’ll see it was meant to be

Some things are just meant to happen

No matter how bad they are

Someday you’ll look back and see

It was meant to be

 

You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders

Weighing you down

‘Til you’re just a puddle after the hurricane

You’ve got to know

 

[Chorus]

It’s not your fault,

You’re not to blame

And maybe someday, somewhere

You’ll see it was meant to be

Some things are just meant to happen

No matter how bad they are

Someday you’ll look back and see

It was meant to be

 

I just wish you’d realize

There are some things we can’t change

If you’d look a little closer

If you’d open your eyes and see

Yeah I know it’ll hurt the most

And yeah, I know you loved her

But it’s already over

 

It was never your fault

Stop blaming yourself

Someday, somewhere

Open your eyes and see it was meant to be

Some things just have to happen

Even if they hurt

Someday you’ll see

It was meant to be

It was meant to be

 

perfectlonelyworld

Growing Up

17 Feb

As a little girl,

I had big dreams

Some were huge oceans,

Others were little streams.

 

In my innocent mind,

Nothing was impossible

Life was a blank slate,

Yours to make visible.

 

That was when everything was perfect,

Only now do I wonder

Where was the rain before

Where was the thunder?

 

As I grow older,

And reality grows heavier

The illusion I had is gone,

While the storm grows steadier.

 

Is this what growing up means?

Letting go of the rainbow

Putting yourself down,

And forever saying no.

 

perfectlonelyworld

The House That Built Me

15 Feb

The one with the red bricks,

Window at the front

The one with the giant tree,

That’s the house that built me.

 

The house with the rock,

Mighty and round

Sitting at the corner,

On the lawn of the house that built me.

 

The one with the squeaky gate,

And a driveway the colour of night

The one with the crooked pathway

It’s the house that built me.

 

The house with the most Life,

Love, laughter and joy,

It might be lacking in wealth,

But it’s the house that built me.

 

I will never forget,

The times I spent there

For it will always be

The house that built me.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Back In Time

11 Feb

I want to go back in time. I want to go back to a time when things were simpler. When life seemed better.

I want to go back and talk to my grandmother. I want to see her smile, and give her a hug. Most importantly, I want to tell her that I love her.

I want to go back to when I was a baby. When I had not yet known heartbreak, sorrow and pain. When I wasn’t constantly under pressure to be perfect.

I want to go back to when I was five. When I would sit on the rock in our front yard, day after day, after day. Waiting. For what, I’m not sure. Perhaps waiting for my dad to come home from work. Or maybe, I was waiting for the cats who lived across the street to come, so that I could play with them.

I want to go back to that hospital room on that Tuesday night. That night, the last time I saw him alive. I want to give him a kiss on the cheek, tell him how he made me a better person.

I want to go back to when my biggest worry was if the girl sitting next to me in class wanted to play with me at recess.

I want to go back to summer days spent by the pool. Laughing, splashing, talking. When school seemed an eternity away.

I want to go back to evening strolls on the beach. Watching the sun set, the sky aflame. Later, the sky would turn pink. I want to feel the sand in between my toes and smell the fresh ocean air.

Above all, I want to go back and do all the things I wish I had done. I want to relive all the good times of the past, not taking it for granted. I want to take away this regret that is inside me.

 

perfectlonelyworld

 

Grandma

7 Feb

Here’s what I remember:

Her rocking my sister to sleep in her arms while singing a song.

Going to the store with her to buy Cheetos.

Hearing her tell me stories about when I was a baby before going to sleep.

Watching the back of her deep red coat become smaller and smaller as she went past security at the airport.

Her standing in front of the window while pouring herself some tea in furry light blue pajamas.

Sitting on the couch with her, watching TV show after TV show.

Going to a fancy restaurant to celebrate her birthday.

Her sitting on the reclining seat in the bedroom every morning, reading the newspaper.

Her and my sister walking around the house, arms swinging, like they had all the time in the world.

Going shopping and her buying me little mementos.

Her crying as we leave for the airport and my mom promising that we’ll see her again.

Here’s what I don’t remember:

The last thing I said to her before we left.

Me telling her that I love her.

 

perfectlonelyworld