Once, about twenty years ago, I sat at the piano in our front room, bundled in a coat, shivering wildly while trying to touch the cold keys. It felt like a particularly cold January morning to me, but as it was 6:00 a.m., it was my required time to be up practicing the piano.
My parents weren't up yet, but I knew my mom would be supervising the sounds from her side of the covers. Despite the extra cold morning, I knew I had better just do my best to practice the piano. My fingers ached from the cold, but I did my duty and got in my hour at the keys.
As other family members began to stir, my dad came downstairs and turned on the oven, opening it to allow the heat to warm the kitchen. It turns out our furnace had broken overnight, leaving our home unheated on a snowy January morning. My parents had apparently known this all along, had discussed whether to tell me to go back to bed, and had decided that I might as well just stay up and get my practicing done. Thanks, guys.
My thoughts turned to that chilly morning as I lay, this morning, under my warm covers listening to the sounds of Adam's piano practice coming from the front room. Until three days ago, I would have been out of bed, working on breakfast in the kitchen as he practiced. But three days ago, he asked Kirk to please set his alarm clock for "thirty minutes before Mom usually gets me up." Apparently, my schedule has been making him feel rushed in the morning, and he would like to have plenty of time to "practice the piano, and do my hair and everything, and still have some time to just sit on the couch."
So now he wakes before I do and sets about practicing, just like I used to. As I contemplated braving the chilly air to begin my day, I realized that things are pretty awesome from this new side of the covers.
2 months ago