a house with music

My mother taught herself to play a portable organ, a gift to an unimpressed daughter. She knew one song especially well, and she played it happily, lilting of a bride and a bicycle. Her gift to me: a guitar and a teach yourself to play manual, but no lessons. It was like being given a book in Polish, or Urdu.

Two musical children inhabit this house. When they are not hammering melodies from the piano, they are listening to something, or asking. Both their tastes run, for the time being, to sugary pop. Coldplay and Lady Gaga are shared favorites, Black Eyed Peas not far behind.

Not the best music, maybe, but I love living in a house with music.