I remember playing the piano for three years in my childhood - age 8-11. I learned from listening to and watching my older sister. I played a duet with her in the recital, called "Country Gardens," when I was 9 years old. At the age of 10, I played in another recital at the teacher's house. It was a simple version of "Exodus." Finally, at age 11, I practiced and practiced for the recital that turned out to be my last one. I played "Aragonaise." When the teacher first handed me this piece, I saw all the notes that were several lines above the staff, and exclaimed, "I can't play this!" She said, "Of course you can." She had great confidence in me. I justified that confidence by memorizing and playing without an error in her house, making only a slight error on one of the high notes in the actual recital. I also practiced and memorized the Major scales, and won a statuette of Bach on my very first try for the award at the teacher's house. I still feel the call of the piano today, and sometimes I play Christmas carols. I think I'll try studying classical music again. It brings so much wonder, passion, and feelings to life, just as in my poetry.