As rain fell on my windshield this morning on my way in to work, I released an exasperated sigh that was so forceful it left a mark of steam on my driver’s side window. I caught my breath in surprise as the steam from my outburst on the window faded away, much like a fire losing it flame. Yiruma’s beautiful piano piece, River Flows in You, was coming to an end on my stereo as I wondered if my own artistic flame was burning out and my creative ashes were merely becoming a smolder. Over the years, I have lost touch with the creative side of my soul as an obsessive compulsive mother hen took over my body. A younger version of me used to find relaxation and fulfillment in painting or recreating photographs from pencil and charcoal onto paper. As I reminisced about my past talents, I wondered if I could develop a new talent and appreciation for a different art at this point in my life. The sounds of the piano intrigue me. I began to daydream of what it would be like to sit down by the window side in the morning with a cup of coffee on top of my own piano recreating Yiruma’s sounds in my own sitting room with my own hands. I want to create.
My daydreaming was cut short as I swiped my badge to enter the campus where I work. It must have been the gloomy effects of the rain, because I then began to wonder what I would leave behind for my girls when I am no longer physically a part of this world. How nice it would be to have recorded a piece of music they could listen to later on and they might be able to say proudly, “That’s my Mom playing that beautiful song”. I highly doubt my kids will remember me for anything I have accomplished at my job. I don’t create anything. Nor do I publish anything. Sure, there is a YouTube video of me performing a procedure developed here at the NIH, but, that’s the point. It was developed by someone else. Everything I do is merely a recreation of someone else’s creativity or research. I could have created… I want to create.
And then I replayed a scene from my deck last night in my head as I walked into work, umbrella in tow as the rain continued to pour. My oldest was taking pictures with my husband’s new camera and I mentioned to her that it’s nice that she enjoys that and that some people even make hobbies and careers out of photography. But then the evil mother hen with OCD reared her ugly head and quickly backtracked, saying, “But doctors make so much more money”. I would not have realized my blunder if my husband did not jokingly mock me by telling me to let our oldest live her own life. Then in a hysteria of laughter, my daughter pointed at me and said, “Yeah Mom, let me live my own life”. I should have pointed at my own mother and said the very same thing so long ago. I could have created… At 18, I wanted to study architecture. But Mother protested, worried that such a career wouldn’t yield the monetary success and security she so desired for me. Despite detour after detour, I ended up in the safe zone working in the field of Medical Technology, not exactly a creative career. I want to create.
Is it possible that one day I could record a piece of music for my daughters? Yiruma began playing the piano at age 5. Another favorite of mine, Kevin Kern, who performs Sundial Dreams, began playing at 18 months and he is legally blind! At 35, I am skeptical that I could pick up on this talent. Though I am determined to try, time is working against me. But perhaps I’ll look into a weekly lesson and go from there. It’s worth a shot. In the mean time, I am determined to work on leaving a piece of me behind for those which I brought into this world. I have resolved to make the time to go to Michael's and purchase two seperate portfolios, one for each of my children. I will take the time to let my lost talent find its way back for their sake. Yesterday, my husband took a beautiful photograph of our youngest looking thoughtfully out of a window. I’m going to put pencil to paper and recreate this image to perfection because my creative flame still burns. I can create.
Daydreaming Haven
She reignites my flame...
