Play the Rain
Stella, with her four-year-old doe legs, pranced around the room humming some unintelligible song, then nestled herself into my lap with one swift leap.  We were sitting at Pop-Pop’s baby grand, the one that filled the corner of his den, the one that often tinkered along on winter nights to the slow rise of flame in the fireplace. I never had lessons, but those keys had melodies that I spent hours in the pursuit of discovering. Stella sat upright and turned her round-cheeked face toward mine and said, “Play the rain. But don’t play the rain outside right now, play the rain that will fall tonight, when we are tucked in, almost asleep.” Quite the order it was, but like many of Stella’s instinctive requests, my heart felt awakened with the invitation. Stella hopped down, pulled a throw from the sofa, and dragged it across the floor to drape over…Continue Reading