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When we think of gifts, we picture little boxes covered with shiny wrapping paper and a cute little ribbon on top. For my fifth birthday, my present didn’t exactly fit these “requirements”.

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Sitting down in front of the piano every night, I can remember the time

when one little girl’s dream came true. Immediately after I woke up on the day of my fifth birthday, my parents blind-folded me and led me to the dining room. Taking off the handkerchief, I stood in front of the most beautiful piano I had ever seen. In front of me was a brown, upright Wurlitzer, my very own piano. I immediately pulled out the chair

from under the piano and opened the lid. I took a deep breath and played Jingle Bells, the only song I could memorize at the time. Gliding my fingers over the smooth piano keys, I couldn’t believe that this was actually happening.

Turning five, I was only interested in music. While other children would sit in front of their televisions and bug their eyes out watching Barney and Sesame Street, I became engrossed in watching tapes of ballets, concerts, and musicals. It was evident that I was a child who would grow to love music and its art; however no one could ever imagine that this interest would evolve into a significance that would change my childhood forever. At around the same time, I realized that my cousin Caroline was my role model. She was a tall girl that would blow people away as soon as she

stepped into a room; you could sense her magnificence from a mile away. Caroline was attracted to just about everything that I was, and excelled at all the things that she attempted, which included the art of piano. Once I learned that she was such a brilliant musician, I started to beg to learn how to play the piano. Most of my family members thought that this was just some childhood stage that I would quickly get over and drop. My mother brought me to my first keyboard teacher, Scott. He taught me about all the essentials including the notes, their values, and some simple songs. Although I learned nothing more then the basics, I was overjoyed, treating the uncomplicated steps as gold. Every week after

lessons, I would rush to my parents, skipping with delight, eager to show them what I had learned.

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