Duet

Do you remember the first time your piano teacher gave you a book of duets? I sat next to Mrs. Mayola Kerr every Wednesday afternoon in 2nd grade or so, laboriously plunking out almost-recognizable melodies. Boring. Then one day Mrs. Kerr opened a duet book and said, "You play the primo (that's the right hand) and I'll play the secondo on the bottom." Sudden music filled the small living room, rich and rolling and irresistible. The magic of it took my breath away.  Looking at Mrs. Kerr's wrinkled hands next to mine on the black and white keys, I recognized a miracle. Our four hands together could create what my two small hands could scarce imagine--complex counterpoint. Music.

Today I celebrate a remarkable duet. This is my parents' anniversary. Fifty-seven years ago today they hopefully placed their four hands side by side on one set of keys and began to create together what they could scarce have imagined individually. Life music. Their miraculous, complex counterpoint shaped me and informed my view of the world. Sometimes Mom played primo while Dad steadily provided the deep notes that held her up. Other times Dad took the melody while Mom harmonized or kept the rhythm going in the left hand. They improvised well when life took unexpected turns, playing off each other with complementary ease. But they also practiced and prepared carefully to fill our home with the worthy, the lovely, the nourishing. Lucky me to grow up in the world they made. I learned to sing out loud, to dance with joy, to hum softly, and to simply listen with my heart.

Mom's two hands rest on the keyboard now, unaccompanied. The melody she plays must sound thin, solitary to her ear. But let me tell you what I hear:  The exquisite duet that took breath and began fifty-seven years ago today has expanded, crescendoed, spilled over in jubilant song. A symphony. Hear it, Mom. Listen to the liquid sound of love without end and eternal ensemble. The music of eighty hands surrounds you. It intertwines and undergirds and carries your lovely melody forward. The duet may be suspended for a moment, but you will never play solo again.

Happy Anniversary, Mom. And Dad. I love the song you started.