Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
This story is about the Power of Love. That 80s rock ballad just went through your head momentarily, huh? Sorry about that.
In 1984, I was 5 years old. Whilst all parents are sure that their children are blessed with gifts beyond their age, I wasn’t. But that was okay, because I was happy, my chief hobby was snuggling up with my grandmother, on her single bed, learning how to read from her Mills and Boon novels. To me, this equaled a perfect existence.
Not only did I have a grandmother completely committed to equipping me with Important Life Skills, but I had a grandfather, who undoubtedly buoyed by rapid progress on the Mills and Boon front, believed that I could Do Anything. So over the long days of the holidays I would swing from reading lesson with Nan to days out with Granddad, and life lilted by at a glorious pace.
Until: The Day.
You will have to forgive that my memory is a little patchy, as I was only 5, but I am going to say that it was a warmish early spring afternoon. My grandparents, sister and I had driven from their coastal home at Saratoga in to Gosford City in order to borrow some books from the library; this was a weekly exercise and one I enjoyed no end. After attending to our book duties, we decided that seeing as we were in town, we would meander across the way to the shopping centre and Make a Day of It.
So far, so good, right.
As we enter the shopping centre there was a stage in the centre of the forecourt, that on this day was hosting a display from a local piano retailer, complete with spruiker that would give John Burgess a run for his money. I was transfixed. And then it happened. Baby John Junior called for audience participation, and from a crowd of around 50, I whipped my hand up and gave the best smile I was able. I think I was even making some of those straining sounds that kids make when they really want to get picked for something.
Jackpot. He picked me.
An important side note to this story, is that I had on a dress this day, and a favourite hobby of the time was to gently press down the front before grandly lifting out the sides of the material before I would take a seat. And so, as I made my way to the stage I began to gently pat down the fabric, and as I approached the stool, lifted the sides and assumed position.
The thing was – I actually had no idea how to play piano, but here I was – with the crowd now swelling, in front of a baby grand. I caught granddad’s eye, he gave me a big smile and away I went. I am not talking softly tapping the keys, I absolutely went Mozart on this thing, my hands bashed the keys, my head lolled and as I became more convinced that this was actually sounding quite spectacular – I fell off the back of the stool. As in splayed out on my back, legs in the air falling off.
And in that moment, I discovered a secret about life.
Still lying there, I commenced the patting down the dress, stood up, lifted the sides, resumed my seat and finished with a cacophony of noise that was so spectacular, I’m pretty sure the applause I got at the end was just relief that it had stopped. And it was only later that I reconciled myself that I would never be able to play piano, but the secret, is that love, real love, gives you the courage to try anything and I was happy.
The end.