I hear something calling me, inviting me in, and it gets me every time. Admiration leads to this addictive relationship between human and object and still, I am compelled. This place that I want to visit calms me, if only for that moment. I take my place by this gorgeous black and white grand piano, and perform my calling. Moments like these are worth living for.


The big question is how did this crazy little thing happen? I became infatuated with this about the time I heard Amadeus Mozart play Moonlight Sonata. Have you ever been lifted to the stars? I mean, seriously, it gave me wings. So, like an anxious little eight year old with a new hobby that parents think are a “phase” I was enrolled into a music school. On the sheet of paper were lines and little weird things on them, which I soon was taught to be notes and staffs. Right away, I started pecking away. I mean, you must craw before you walk. Hours upon hours I was taken to a world of music, forming melodies starting with “Mary had a Little Lamb”

Gospel Music School?” I thought in disgust. My grandmother, a devoted Christian, decided my path of music for me. How could she have betrayed me? She absolutely tricked me, and I must say, it broke my little heart. There was a whole different style of music. I was instantly reverted back into the southern Sundays of organs and choirs and saints fainting and hollering when devotion of in motion. Little did I know that I would come to love this music with style, rhythm and improvisation.

Yes! I have mastered it. Just call me the queen of the piano. My style is flawless and I make a low degrading melody a magnificent piece of art. It’s a rewarding experience knowing that long, frustrating hours of practice can lead to the crowds swaying and loving the music that is created. Classical music and gospel music now runs through my veins. I love the way it calls me, invites me in, and gets me to jam one more time.