I’m sitting at the piano, relearning things I learned decades ago.

Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge
FACE
Great Big Dogs Fool Around
All Cows Eat Grass

I’m 44 and I’m still reciting these things as I stare at music.

My first piano teacher was my best friend. We sat at her piano and she taught me to number my fingers, and how to play Mary Had a Little Lamb (32123332223553212333322321).

Then I had a piano teacher who came to my house every week. When I moved in 5th grade, I had a piano teacher whose house I went to every week.

In college my then-boyfriend, now ex-husband and I had my old piano teacher come over once a week to give us lessons. Soon we realized we weren’t ever practicing, since nobody was making us. So, when he came over we were paying him to play the piano for us. I mean, he was an amazing piano player…But I’ve never been wealthy enough to hire my very own concert pianist. Is that even a thing?

Now I’m learning by myself again. This time my teacher is an app, instead of a human, but I’m still basically the same kind of piano student that I’ve always been. (Although, I do practice more, and for longer, and with more joy now.)

I’ve always hated to count, but I don’t actually have any natural rhythm. So I have to count. My app plays along with me which helps me with my pace, and the measures move from right to left on my phone screen. I still don’t ever get 100% on the rhythm score at the end of each song. My teachers used to write things like “COUNT!” at the top of my sheet music, and I have “I-e-and-a-2-e-and-a” etched in my skull. But I still think to myself “Oh, I can just play this now.” And then I picture one of my piano teachers and the way they would remind me to count. Every week.

I am relearning things I already knew. Sometimes my son will call out from the other room, “That sounded good, mom” and twice I played for my parents.

They said they enjoyed it and also that they would look for the old metronome if I wanted it…