I remember being four years old, following my mother through the mall as she went on a shopping spree. It was just after the holiday season, but Christmas decorations were still on display. As we turned the corner, the sound of music and soft tinkling caught my ear. In the middle of the plaza, I saw a man playing on a glossy black grand piano. Beneath the shining lights and glittering tinsel, the scene felt like magic. I was captivated by the sounds and begged my mother to let us get closer to watch. Enraptured, I stared as his hands glided slowly across the keys, playing a piece I now know as Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9 No. 1. From that moment, I was determined to master the piano. After relentless pleading, my mother finally gave in and let me learn the piano.

Taking lessons, however, was frustrating. While I loved listening to the piano, I struggled to focus, with my mind drifting to pieces I wished I could play rather than the exercises in front of me. My first teacher was young, inexperienced, and never taught me the fundamentals: sight-reading, proper fingering, or technique. Whenever I struggled to read the notes, he would just tell me which note to play or which key to press. I learned to memorize songs quickly rather than playing them by reading sheet music. Over time, my lack of fundamentals made things harder because I couldn’t learn the pieces on my own and had to rely on someone else to tell me the notes.

In second grade, I switched to a new teacher, one who was extremely strict and still scares me to this day. Having never learned fundamentals, I had developed bad habits that she had to break. When I misplayed a note, she would smack my hand; when I returned the next week, unable to perfect a measure, she would let out a disappointed “tsk.” Her teaching was rigorous and only made me dislike playing even more.

When the pandemic made online piano lessons impractical and expensive, I was ecstatic. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to force myself to sit and struggle to play pieces I didn’t like. At the start of the pandemic, I avoided playing altogether, and my old Kambell piano sat collecting dust for a couple of months. But eventually, my parents had had enough. Having invested years into my lessons, they wanted to make sure I didn’t lose my skills. So, instead of enforcing a rigid practice routine, they gave me a choice:

That offer helped me realize I didn’t need formal lessons to improve or to have fun while playing piano. The basics and fundamentals were still important, but they didn’t define my relationship with the piano either. As I continued to play, I worked on breaking bad habits at my own pace. Instead of practicing for the sake of practicing, I began playing for fun, choosing songs from Disney, pop music, and classical pieces that I genuinely wanted to learn, rediscovering why I had wanted to start playing in the first place.

Now, when I sit down to play, I forget about everything else. My fingers dance across the keys, and I don’t even realize hours have passed until my sister tells me it’s her turn to play. Two hours feel like two minutes, and I can’t help but play just one more time. It isn’t just the sound of the piano or the piece that captivates me–it is also the challenge of learning or transcribing a new piece.

And now, I sit in front of the piano, waiting for the audience to come and settle in, and to watch me as I play. It’s my first performance in over 3 years since the pandemic began. I know the audience won’t judge me, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling nervous. Someone nods to me, telling me to begin. I introduce myself and the piece I am playing: Chopin’s Nocturne No. 9, Op 1. I inhale and let muscle memory take over. My fingers gently tap each note, my foot presses and lifts the pedal, and my body sways slowly, following the notes and the melody until the piece is complete. It felt like I had gone back in time, and the present moment was frozen. I was four years old again, listening as someone played the very same piece under glimmering lights and shimmering tinsel. But this time, I was the one playing.