The piano

She sits on the 30-year-old stool in front of the piano. Its 5.05 a.m. She thinks she’s crazy for a second. Then she realizes she actually is: she’s crazy in love with life at the moment. She smiles to herself: “There it is, getting senile at such young age!”

And she starts playing this beautiful old piano she found at a Sunday market. Best money she’s ever spent, she thought. Ludovico Einaudi – Una mattina, her obsession for the last few weeks. Then another song and another one and 20 minutes later she finds herself back to the bed she’s always wanted which is just a king-sized mattress on the floor, in the middle of the room. She wraps herself in the fresh white cotton sheets and the scent of the soul next to her. She kisses her shoulder softly, trying not to wake her up. “Morning person” was definitely not invented for her. 

They’ve been living together for 2 years now in a decent sized studio in Mona Vale and even though they’ve always thought they’d kill each other within a couple of days, things have turned out better than expected. The room is filled with stacks of books and home magazines, there’s 2 bikes hung on one of the walls, a huge dvd rack, a little table with a typing machine, a laptop and lots of wild flowers and lavender in a ceramic pot next to it. There are a couple of empty cans of beer next to the mattress and some popcorn left in a huge bowl, probably from the film, last night.

She wakes up again, this time too late for a Saturday, with the smell of fresh croissants and coffee and the image of a beautiful naked body under an oversized checked shirt, tip-toeing around the room, setting up the small table in the balcony over-looking the ocean.

-You’ve overslept. Again. You might need a jumper for this; it’s bloody windy out there. But you wanted breakfast on the balcony at least once a week, so you must suffer the consequences now.

Confused and sleepy, she covers herself in the white bed throw and goes on the balcony. A small table with elderflower lemonade, coffee, croissants and fruits were all waiting for her. They both sat down in quiet, not knowing what to start with. Sipping from the large mug of black coffee she stares at the two big brown eyes in front of her and without a word she tells her “I love you!”

-I know. Now tell me, what person in their right mind plays piano at 5 o’clock in the morning?


The memories that you sometimes want to forget, the stupid giggles, the ugly crying, the disappointments, the 3 a.m. calls, the heavy breathing after making love, the long drives after sunrise, listening to cheesy songs and holding hands, looking at each other and thinking how fucking lucky you are to be living something like this, the moment you find out those lips kissed that new special “her” after they’ve just whispered “I love you!” in your ear. Good or bad, these are few of the million pieces that put together a beautiful, but insanely complicated puzzle: YOU. And some amazing stories end, but they all stay part of that puzzle, turning into strength. And some will begin soon after you let go. Learning to do that is difficult and frustrating and tiring. But once you start, you know that’s what you should have done a long time ago.

And then, there you are! You let go of bad memories, arguments and pain. You let go of people who belittle you and tell you that “life sucks!” and that people are horrible in one way or another, people that make fun of your happy self, thinking it’s stupid and pointless to be happy all the time. You give up pleasing everybody and you start living for yourself, not your mother, not other relatives, not your friends. You stop apologizing for being lame or believing in good people and true love. You let them laugh while you go to sleep smiling that today was a good day and tomorrow’s going to be an even better one. You let go of unimportant things and focus on having an extraordinary life. And the moment you will do all this, you will decide involuntarily the path you want to follow further on. That’s called growing up.