"Making Magic"

I was twelve years old when I learned how to make magic. My carriage was a grand black Steinway in the yellowing music room of my grade school, a hole worn through the damper pedal by years of transporting students on a journey. My fairy godmother was my music teacher, a woman with the patience of a saint and a voice that enchanted all those who heard it not just by harmony but by kindness. And my wand was the white and black keys marching under my fingers, worn but capable of creating beauty that can take anyone out of this world and into one free of all the worry, stress, and turmoil in this life. It sounds too good to be true, but one May day in the seventh grade changed my life forever when I realized I held power beyond all comprehension. I was learning how to make magic. 

To this day I cannot pinpoint exactly what drew me so irresistibly to desire to learn how to play piano. But somehow, through some compelling cause I implored my parents to let me pick up an instrument. Exploring with my mom in our local music store one day, we ran into my grade school music teacher, who upon hearing my wishes offered to teach me how to play the piano. This began weekly lessons that would shortly become one of my biggest passions and my greatest source of joy. Starting with simple tunes and basic theory and working my way up, the next two years made me an intermediate pianist who frequently mixed up her chords but would eagerly play you “Ode To Joy” or “Für Elise” again and again if you asked. 

I was fourteen years old when I retreated to piano when my parents would fight. When I could not stand the sound of my father screaming at my little brothers or my mom any longer, I would put in my earbuds and listen to “Nuvole Bianche” by Ludovico Einadui, an instrumental piano piece that within five minutes and fifty seven seconds seemed to capture all the emotions a human could feel in a lifetime. The gentle yet enigmatic beginning took my mind out of my childhood bedroom and into a sea where the sound of sorrow was a wave that carried you rather than one that drowned you. As the pace picked up and the crescenzo climaxed, I felt my panicked breaths slow and my tears stop, pulling me above the water and into a magical space where time stopped and I was simply floating above all my problems. Einadui was a wizard, and it was under his soothing spell that I found a true safe space in replace of the upheaval that was my home again and again.

While just listening to “Nuvole Bianche" was enough to transport me to another world, I desired to be able to make the magic myself. I was inspired to not just be a listener in this life but a creator. As I listened to the song I could only imagine what it would feel like to create such wondrous music. Similar to how a seamstress holds fabric smooth as silk and longs to turn it into a blanket, I held Einadui’s material in my mind and desired to replicate him in weaving melody and harmony into the most comforting blanket imaginable under my fingertips.

The first time I played through the almost six minute song, it took me over the limits of our half hour lesson. Each note became tangled up like knots in my hands and I struggled to bring Einaudi’s sweet melody and harmony together in the same magical way that seemed larger than life. While I had always enjoyed the challenge of learning new music and the difficulties piano brought with it, I reached a new level of frustration with my attempts to learn my favorite piece. This new level of frustration however, also came with new levels of determination that I still possess today and now apply in all areas of my life. 

I was seventeen years old when I finally had full mastery of  “Nuvole Bianche.” When I was upset over my home life, I could now retreat not to the music app on my phone but to my own piano, and bring comfort to myself through my own creation of the sounds that had changed my life. Adding learning the song to my regular lesson curriculum, music theory, and preparation for competitions and recitals had made the process a long one, but the rewarding feeling at the end was like no other and taught me perseverance and commitment as well as giving me the gift of being able to make music. When I play piano, it is like time stops. My thoughts are nonexistent and before I know it I have played four pages without realizing I was doing it. Creating music truly helps me escape reality and brings me euphoria like no other. Making music is making magic. 

Now I am eighteen years old, and I continue to make magic. To be able to make music is to be able to speak every language in the world. Even if I cannot reach someone through words I can still speak to them in the universal language of the heart and touch their souls. Providing the same escape that “Nuvole Bianche” provided me to others through song has been one of the greatest joys of my life, and I am eternally grateful that I was given the gift of music and taught to play piano. With the touch of my hands I can wave a wand and create a spell powerful enough to cope or comfort, captivate or compel. I can make magic.