Once, a long time ago, I heard her play the piano for the very first time.
As she played alone in the middle of that room, I picked up a chair just a few feet away from that grand piano and sat beside her. Her eyes closed, her ears paying close attention to the notes that she imagined dancing across the room, through the door, and along the hallway to the outside world. The song sounded strikingly familiar yet strangely different at the same time. But I didn't mind and neither did she found anything wrong with her playing style. All she cared about was the song and the piano, nothing more and nothing less.
When she finished playing, she took a deep breath and closed the lid on the keys. She noticed my presence while she played.
"How was it?" she asked without even opening her closed eyes.
"Euphoric," I said, even though that word was still an understatement as to what I really felt about her performance. She finally opened her eyes and politely said thank you.
"What was it?" I asked. "It sounded familiar..."
"Oh, that? It's just Over the Rainbow."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but I tweaked it a little bit and played it in B flat."
A small dead silence filled between us. I had little to no knowledge of music, let alone these notes and flats and sharps, so I have nothing else to contribute to the small talk besides the proverbial "Wow."
She just smiled and looked outside the window. The sun was shining down on us on that hot summer morning. The branches of the old mango tree outside danced to the wind that gently blew, rustling its leaves. The sunshine struck her face, she glowed to the light, like a goddess. I just basked and looked at her in both awe and adoration, knowing that if I ever had the power to control and bend the laws of time to my whim, I would freeze all of the time in the universe just to stay in this moment.
At that point, she stood up and walked to the window and opened it, letting the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the wind to enter the room. A small bird perched on the ledge of the window. I walked slowly towards so that I would not disturb the bird. She let the small bird to hop onto her left index finger and she played with the animal until it decided to fly away.
"My mother taught me how to play the piano," she suddenly said. "She told me that I was the fastest learner she ever taught on the piano. Through my childhood, she helped me hone my skills until she passed away. Today's her fifth death anniversary, actually."
She turned and faced me. "That was her favorite song and it was the very first song she taught to me."
"It's lovely. Truly, it is."
"Everytime I play it, I always imagine my mom sitting beside me, still guiding my hands and fingers on the notes and teaching me from wherever she is right now. And it makes me happy and melancholic at the same time."
I held her hands between us, our gazes set upon both of our interlocked hands. "Care to play some more, if it's alright with you," I requested.
A single tear formed on her right eye and I wiped it away before she smiled once again. "I'd love to." We both walked back to our seats. She opened the lid once more and she placed her gentle hands on the black and white keys in front of her. She lifted her head and looked at me, our eyes meeting halfway. I only gave a sincere smile and nodded before she started playing another vaguely familiar yet strangely different classical song. With each and every note and song she played, it made me fall for her more and more.
Next thing we knew, dusk was already upon us.