C,D,G

I got a little frustrated with one of my piano students yesterday. She kept turning to look at me while she was playing.
Finally I said, “Why do you keep looking at me instead of your music? Do I have notes written across my forehead?”
She promptly stopped any semblance of playing and turned to fully face me.
"Yes,” she said.
I felt my eye brows lift. “Where?” I asked.
She pushed her finger into my forehead. “Here, here and here.”
“Oh, yeah?,” I said, “And what notes are they?”
Turning she very purposefully played three notes on the piano, C,D then G.
How many times have I heard those three notes, even in that order. Strange how at that moment they seemed to connect to me as if the sounds had solidified into invisibly thin steel strings that flew through the air to lodge in my chest. They filled me with longing, a nostalgia for something to be mine.
At that moment those three notes were mine. They’d been written on my forehead. They belonged to me.


So I’ve decided to write a motif using those three tones and dedicate it to … well... ME.
Or I could write a dramatic aria with a lot of pounding in the lower register and high, hair pulling, screechy trills and call it Crazy, Demented, Grade-school teacher.
Or maybe I’ll be inspired to create a hymn with majestically full chords, awe inspiring lyrics and ethereal counter melodies and call it Consistently Devoted to Good.
Actually, I think instead I’ll stick with Committed, yet Daydreamy Girl.

Love to all,
LaDale

P.S.- Thanks Caren.