This is what I'm going to be doing tomorrow.
These are, in fact, my daughter's fast-moving piano hands. I was coordinating things from behind the tri-pod.
But tomorrow I'll be sitting at a similar keyboard in an incredible setting, and hoping my hands move as fast and as competently. I'll be at a big black grand piano in an old building with a huge lobby, a tall, glassed ceiling, marble pilars and balconies all around, with people walking here and there for this occasion and that discovery.
Some of them might be listening as I do my best at Chopin and Debussy and Bizet and hymn arrangements. Some, in my experience, will only notice there is music if they hear a wrong note.
Which just might happen.
For a brief moment, I thought that in such a heavenly setting, I would get heavenly help as I interpretted each song. But then I recognized that it would be unfair of me to expect help without doing what is required at my end.
So I practiced. More than I've practiced for a long time, but probably not as much as many would have nor, perhaps, I should have. No excuses. I practiced as much as I could manage.
My dress is ironed. My nails are clipped. My music is laid out. My prayers are being said.
I'm planning to enjoy the experience, no matter how much my hands shake. When nerves take over, I remind myself that the audience is not the enemy. We, in fact, need each other. And they are plugging for my success as much as I am.
I hope we will both end happy.
