A day in September

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Saturday mid-afternoon.  I am home with the family in the french countryside.  It’s raining out; We spent the first part of the day gathered in the kitchen cooking and eating.

Now Mom is reading next to me, while I’m trying to remember how to play some of my favorites scores on the piano.   It’s a very old piano in a very old house; each key resonates to its fullest in the long corridor.    Though I only play simple arrangements, the sound is so intensely free and vibrant that it moves me deeply.

Every so often mom interrupts her reading to comment here on a memory attached to what I’m playing, there on what she comes across.  I play, we talk, I play more  – we go back and forth all afternoon.   Others passes by, get into the conversation, float away to other occupations.

The evening falls before we notice it.