It was Beautiful

I've heard many times the witticism that our greatest enemies are ourselves, but I never really understood its meaning until I received a letter of challenge from the "other me". I was a very self-demanding person since I was a child and the reason I was able to keep my high standard was because I never had any serious failure in my life. But there was one unacceptable exception that no matter how hard I tried I couldn't master it: the piano. Reluctant to accept my failure, I silently made a vow to never play the piano ever again at the day my father sold my newly-bought piano for half its prize.

Years had passed since that day and I became a high school student. I understood that a person could not be perfect at everything and that my standards of being a perfect girl were very childish. As for the piano, I never touched on again and pretended if the instrument had never crossed roads with me. Yet it entered my life once more when I heard my friends talking about how piano examination could add bonus marks when applying to university. It was very tempting. The examination in Canada was much different than that in China; the Canadian version focused less on the technical part but more on the theoretical portion, which was my asset. But remembering my failure before and the anger on my parents' faces when I refused to play piano and they had to sell it cheaply, I didn't know how to ask or another piano.

Not long afterwards, I was shocked to hear my parents asking me for my opinion on playing the piano again for the examination. I didn't know how to reply and felt as if the annoying "other me" was pulling me away from my true wish. One part of me was holding back in fear for failing again; but the other side was dying to launch for the easy marks I could get for university. The opportunity lured me like gravity. Since I stopped playing piano, I kept myself from showing any sign of changing my mind. I was the one that decided to abandon playing piano because I didn’t want to look like a shallow and childish person who couldn’t even stick to her decision. So to avoid my parents thinking that, I put on a reluctant face and replied in a careless tone: “Sure, whatever you want.”

A couple weeks later, the piano that my father rented from Tom Lee was home. I had already prepared a piece of music and practiced on my table top, so I could continue my little lie that I didn’t give up because I couldn’t play but because I didn’t care to play. However, when I opened the piano’s shiny black lid to reveal its full mouth of black and white teeth, I felt like I was looking at a strange creature. The piano was different from what I remembered from a child’s perspective; it used to be much wider and the keys much larger. When I put my hands on the keys and tried to find the right position, my fingers felt so stiff that they couldn’t even move properly. Somewhere in my head a cursing voice kept mumbling “you can’t do it, you can’t do it…”, and both my arms started moving like mechanic arms of a clumsy robot. I realized the piece I played was so messed up with wrong notes and off- keys that it wasn’t music anymore. At that moment I hated the piano so much; it was like a monster with wide open mouth just to mock me!

Then I heard a sobbing voice from next door; it was my mother’s. I was so shocked and stopped my hands instantly. Was I that bad? I asked myself, and the feeling of guilt from the piano sale rushed back. That day my mother cried too, and I acted as if I didn’t care at all and was happy to get rid of the piano. She must have been so disappointed of me. Maybe I should just talk to my father to see if there is a way to return this piano. I couldn’t play it anyways. Just as I thought so and was ready to stand up and leave the piano, my mother’s voice came from next door: “Why stop? My dear, it was beautiful!”

I felt my eyes are suddenly flooded with hot tears. Then I realized how much I wanted to hear someone tell me that. I had been waiting for this praise, for someone to acknowledge my effort for too long. It was like the as if the only missing puzzle of my heart is filled in by these simple words. I was so satisfied and happy. I tried hard to control the tremble in my voice when I answered: “Nothing, I was just resting.” Then I put my hands back on the keyboard, took a deep breath, and started playing again. It was still filled with wrong and broken notes, still not a sing piece of complete melody existed, but I didn’t mind anymore, because my mother said it was beautiful.

My skills were improving day by day and now I think I’ll even have the confidence to play in front of my friends. To think back, the truly shallow and childish part was vowing not to play the piano ever again. But this silly little vow of a ten-years-old child grew into the greatest barrier I had ever encountered. It prevented me from touching the piano for six years, and six years I was finally able to overcome it. This simple matter of playing again created so many struggles because I ingrained the idea of rejecting the piano myself, and to be able to play again, I must face that rejecting part of myself first. This experience of overcoming the barrier set up by myself is the greatest challenge I ever had.