Facing the Music Read Online Free PDF

often came with the risk of upsetting whatever rare calm might have been. A simple request like asking to be allowed to spend a Friday night at the skating rink or to be taken to the movies had the potential to erupt into full-blown drama.
    It’s not that my sister and I were completely denied the pleasures of childhood. It was just that it usually came with a cost. There were times when my father would splurge. Joy would wash over us when he gave my sister and me a twenty-dollar bill and dropped us off at the skating rink. However, that joy would be short-lived. When we would return home, our parents would be in an all-out war. My father would be relegated to sleeping on the couch, my stepmother having locked herself away in their bedroom. My sister and I reckoned that it was our fault for having wanted to go play; it was because of us that our father was in trouble because he had given us money that would have been better spent on something more important.
    Through the tension of it all, my sister and I learned to stifle our desires for adventures away from the farm, especially those which required a little spending money. I wasn’t surprised at the denial, but I was disappointed all the same.
    My sister and I began a ritual of bartering between us. We would draw straws to see who would have the unenviable task of asking our parents for permission for an activity. Only one of us could be crowned the loser. The winner was the one who pushed the other forward to be the lamb to the slaughter. I found thewhole exercise to be an excruciating ritual of disappointment. I never wanted to be the one who returned with the report that I had failed.
    The whole exercise was fraught with danger. Get a yes and there was potential for family turmoil. Get a no, and live out the reality of feeling isolated and unsupported. The only thing that seemed to help us handle the disappointment is that we shared the journey together. If we had success, we were equal beneficiaries. And, when we failed, at least we could entertain each other.
    For so many years, my sister and I relied on our unified front. In a way, we were a single identity in our family unit. “The girls,” we were often called. One body. One space. What was good for one often seemed to be good for us collectively. We were, after all, twins. But, as we grew, our individual personalities and interests each began to take their own shape.
    I had already found a way to explore my own identity with writing and now, my interest in music was one that seemed to be my own as well. I found that I couldn’t rely on my sister to speak for me in my desire for learning music. It seemed that it was unique to me.
    By the time we were in the fourth grade, my sister and I were being allowed to spend entire summers living with Mom. Three whole months to release the cares and stresses of life back home. A place where we felt free to be our true selves. With Mom, we were encouraged to dream. We could ask for anything without worry of upsetting the applecart. We didn’t always get what we hoped for, but there she was always inspiring us to see all of life’s possibilities. I felt safe enough to tell her all about how I wanted piano lessons, knowing that even if it wasn’tsomething she could afford, at the very least I would be heard. I could count on her to listen, to feel and appreciate what I was longing for.
    One summer, she found a way. For the few short weeks that we were together, Mom managed to set enough money aside so that both my sister and I could take piano lessons. My sister seemed to like it enough, but I was beside myself.
    After a few short lessons I began learning to read chords and play more complex music than I had ever imagined. To my delight, I ended the summer with an ability to pound my way through recognizable works from Chopin and Beethoven. I relished that I had my very own books filled with all manner of songs, each that I now had the skill to