Five months ago, I rambled incessantly to you all about how I used to play the piano…kind of…and that I gave up on it before reaching any level of success in mastering it. In case you missed it, you can read that post here.

The first piano I ever played belonged to my late grandmother.  Her name was Zella Mae, and we called her Granny. Granny loved the Lord, and one of her favorite pastimes was to sing church hymns with us grandchildren.  My favorite memory of Granny is when she would sing me to sleep in her rocking chair.  I would climb into her lap and she would sing to me while she “scratched my back”, as I called it. She’d started this tradition as far back as I can remember, and she loved to tell people about how I could find my favorite hymn in the hymnbook before I could even read the words. It was “The Nail-Scarred Hand”, and when I hear it today I can still feel and smell Granny’s shirt on my cheek.

As I grew older, I would sit at her piano and pretend to be playing the songs even though I didn’t know how.  She didn’t know how either…she had bought the piano when my mom and aunt were little girls.  My mom says they took lessons for a while but that she can’t remember anything she learned. I would imagine what my mom looked like as a little girl, playing on the very same piano and likely from the very same hymnbook. I would then imagine what I would look like when I was my mom’s age.  I dreamt that by then I’d be a very talented musician. These were all very, very fond memories of my childhood.

Unfortunately, I saw some rough times in the years to come, as many of us do, and I got so wrapped up in dropped classes and failed relationships and struggling to pay the rent that I just gave up on everything that I ever cared about. I stopped playing, I stopped dreaming, and I stopped believing that I’d ever be good at anything. I had no interest in music anymore. I’ve always regretted giving up on the piano, and myself.

Last month I was in a local thrift store when I came across a piano very much like my Granny’s. I decided that day that it’s about time I start believing in myself again. I bought the piano and had it delivered soon after. I sit down at it now every chance I get. I named it Zella Mae, and each time I strike a chord I’m reconnected to that little boy that I once was. In my Granny’s arms, fast asleep, encompassed by dreams, hopes, wishes…and a song.