Yesterday, I saw Time

Yesterday, I saw Time

Strumming a guitar. Digits

Professing that

Summer was gone,

Chewed, and swallowed like

A grape. Still, he picked

Strings, pining for her

To return and sing.

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Let’s waste time chasing cars

I recently witnessed Ed Sheeran perform at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. He’s quite the entertainer, but this post isn’t about him.

This post concerns his opening act: Snow Patrol.

When I was in high school, Snow Patrol became popular. Their hit song “Chasing Cars” was on everyone’s lips, but their popularity ultimately faded as they failed to produce new music.

They became forgettable.

So when I heard that they would be opening up for Ed, I was annoyed. Snow Patrol was old news. I didn’t care that they had a new album; I didn’t want to hear it. In my mind, opening acts should be for bands who are up and coming, and as far as I was concerned, Snow Patrol’s ship had already sailed.

But on the day of the concert, when they finally started to strum, drum, and sing, I couldn’t help but notice their fervency. Between songs, the lead singer communicated that it had taken them seven years to release a new album. He joked about how incredible their new music had to be since they had made their fans wait so long.

This got me thinking about time. I, too, have my own seven year gaps, secret dreams that drift, hoping to rescued, valued, and tended.

When the band finally performed “Chasing Cars,” it didn’t matter that seven years had passed.

We still knew every word.

It mocks me

It mocks me—the grand piano—that resides in my living room.

It was purchased for my older brother. After playing for some time, his piano instructor recommended that my parents buy a bigger keyboard for him, but our dad brought home the monster with white teeth instead. My family and I always give my dad a hard time about this—his go big or go home attitude. He’s a very humble man, but sometimes he has expensive taste.

My brother played for awhile, but eventually the instrument was no longer a priority. His interests changed, but that was okay, because my parents believed I could learn to play. The problem was that I never hit the keys until an hour before my lesson, because I believed that I could master a piece without training.

I have had three piano teachers, so it’s obvious I’m the problem. I always joke that if there was only a pill to swallow that provided instant mastery of an instrument I’d take it.

Since a pill of that sort doesn’t exist, I’ll try something I’ve never tried before: consistent practice.

Currently, I’m on page 109 in Alfred’s Basic Adult Piano Course: Level 1. I hope to finish the book by the end of this year.

XO

T. Shaw