Piano Lessons

Ana was eleven and lived with her parents and grandparents in Toronto. Grandpa Victor was seventy-five and had an old piano in the living room. Nobody played it. "It's just furniture," Grandma said.

One winter, Grandpa decided to change that. "Ana, I want you to learn the piano," he said. "And I want to learn with you." Ana wasn't excited. "I want to play basketball," she said. "Basketball is in summer," said Grandpa. "This is January."

The lessons started with a teacher who came every Thursday. She expected them to practice every day. Grandpa practiced every day. Ana practiced when Grandpa was watching, which was always.

There was another problem. Grandpa sang while he played. He sang loudly, and he sang badly. "Grandpa, I want you to stop singing," Ana said. "I can't hear the notes." "I can't play without singing," said Grandpa. "It helps me to remember."

In March, Ana had an idea. "Grandma's birthday is in May," she said. "Let's learn a song for her. One song, together. You play the left hand and I play the right." Grandpa agreed to stop singing during the lessons. Ana agreed to practice twenty minutes every day.

They chose Grandma's favorite song, an old song from the radio. They practiced every evening. Sometimes they argued, and sometimes they laughed so much that they couldn't play.

On Grandma's birthday, they played the song in front of the whole family. Ana played the right hand. Grandpa played the left hand, and he didn't sing. Not one note. Grandma cried, and then she said, "Now the piano isn't furniture anymore."