He sits atop the oversized piano bench, feet dangling, sidling off the edge to press the pedals. He, like his Dad before him, craves the music; is intoxicated by the idea that he can make music; by the notion that he can push a few ivory keys and be moved by the sound he makes.
He is young, and only now beginning to learn the power he holds within himself – the power to play; the power to move others by his playing. He, like his Dad before him, is impatient to learn. He skips ahead, trying to see where he is going. Trying to get there before he is ready; counting the days until he can finish his grade and move on to the next. How many weeks? How many days?
Someday, his Dad and his Teacher will watch and listen and marvel at his instinctive sense of the music. Someday he will outgrow his teacher. Someday he will play better than his Dad. Someday he will look back and smile at the simplicity of these early days marking the emergence of his talent.
Today, he sees his piano as an instrument of infinite capability and promise. Today, we who love him recognize the irrepressible nature of his spirit and know that he is a creature of infinite capability and promise.
He can’t yet know (yet, somehow he intuits), that magical mysteries lie in wait.