What ifs?

Jane got me thinking of what ifs today.

I don’t like to think I have any regrets in life. I’ve always believed everything that happens in life brings you closer to where you ought to be.. or where you’re meant to go. But even still, sometimes a moment will remind me of something really dear to me and I’ll get this tiny stab in my heart and well, my mind drifts to what could have been.

No, I am not talking about some past lover.

Playing the piano. I’ve never mentioned this before but I used to play the piano in my past life. I loved it more than books and short stories. It was the one thing in the world where I could escape and I was (brace yourself for the corniness that lies ahead) one with the music.. the chords.. the melody.. the climax.. the everything. Just thinking about it now almost puts me in an emotional state. I remember just today, while driving, hearing a piano version of “It Might Be You.” My heart hurt and once again, I was reminded of my past life where I could escape to the one place that no one else could be a part of with me — the piano. It pains me even more, presently, when I run my fingers across the keys and my fingers have no reaction — almost as if they’ve reached foreign land. Imagine that feeling — something you lived for, in every moment you were in it/there with it 100%, the way a glove fits your hand and then… when you seek some sort of affirmation that there’s still a connection and sadly, there ends up being none, imagine that. Hubby tells me I could always go back to it but no, he doesn’t understand. It would be so hard to go back to the piano. My fingers don’t sway with the keys like they once did in the past. My eyes don’t see the notes as clearly as before. It is all so foreign to me. I don’t feel the connection at all.

And so my piano just sits. In our living room. And it is the same piano from when I started at 3 or 4 years old. I told my mom she could will everything to my sister so long as I got my piano. It was shipped from Alaska to California. Corny, I told you.

It’s even cornier when I say I miss performing for a crowd. I miss recitals, I miss choosing a piece and presenting it in a version that becomes my own. It’s a special thing when you’re up on stage. The greatest high, especially when the journey is done, and you realize you have a crowd in front of you (with their loud applause) and you’re wondering where the hell they came from — only to be reminded that they were there with you all along. And it’s an even greater high when you perform something you’ve put your soul into and when you look into the crowd for some sort of confirmation they understood your meaning, they’re standing for you. Life doesn’t get any sweeter than that. I could live on stage and in those moments forever.

I am a coward. A coward because I choose not to chase my dream and see where being a pianist might have brought me. A coward because I didn’t stand up for the one thing that was special to me. And an even bigger asshole for ending my relationship with the piano over something so entirely stupid, immature and just plain dumb.

Again, like I said, hubby says I could always go back to playing again. I don’t agree. I’ve lost so much along the way. Let me be a coward and take my pride instead. Besides, I’m only human — and we all must have at least one ‘what if’ in life.