I grew up with what seemed like endless piano lessons. I practiced every day and my Mom would set the timer on top of the piano (her mistake) and I would slowly push it forward to decrease my practice time. She never thought the timer ding went off too soon, as I giggled to myself each time. Even the short amount of practice (at times) gave me 7 years of creativity. I had the ear for music and would always deviate from the theory being taught and would embellish my cords and timing. Soon, I found myself making some of my own music and just playing whatever came to my mind. My piano sits in my living room with the lid open all the time. Recently, with a glass of Pinot Noir, I sit down and start to play for the simple pause. I find myself a bit rusty but just like riding a bike, it all comes back. I smile and feel God’s presence in my soul as I tickle the ivory to my heart’s desire.