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Once upon a time, in a land far away, a little girl gathered with her aunts, a piano to play. The little girl grew, and the aunts moved away, and the next generation took over the day:
(Where did this rhyming come from? I apologize if I got your expectations up, but let's get back to reality...)
The little girl is now the eldest of these lovely ladies, the daughters of the pianist above and cousins extraordinaire. This weekend we carried on the music making tradition begun so many years ago by playing a small concert in the Adirondacks, which these precious girls and their family newly call home.
First things first, however--we had to GET READY:
We are girls, after all.
When we felt confident that we were dolled up appropriately, we headed to the church and to our waiting audience. Our adoring public. Basically--our family members, plus a few souls who weren't drawn by our competition for the weekend--Richard Marx, playing somewhere else in town. (I was looking for a moment to sneak out to see him instead, but there was always someone watching me...)
Johanna played the violin quite beautifully.
Kate sang like an angel.
Rachel caused the piano to sweetly sing, and then proved herself to be a valuable page turner:
(other than that time she put the music on the rack upside down....)
My contribution to the evening was to accompany the musicians, and to play a few numbers of my own.
And when all was said and done, we were smiling.
The audience was smiling.
The world felt like a good place to be.
It only got better after that, because the next day we indulged in still being together. Our hosts, my Uncle Ned and Aunt Lois, grilled us up a ton of meat. Members from both sides of the family relaxed together, laughed together, ate together.
My grandparents were there, my parents were there, my aunt and uncle were there, my cousins were there, I was there.
This very rarely happens all at the same time....
...and this is how we felt about it.
Blessed.
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