Itching Fingers

When I was in 8^th grade, I was obsessed with basketball. I waited for the moment each day when I could curl my fingers around that globe, hold that whole world in my hands and then bounce and shoot it and bounce it again. My obsession was so great that in winter, I would sometimes take a shovel to the nearby court and clear the snow.

Passion lives in our bodies and the physical, tangible sensations we have, feeling somehow not complete until the feet get peddling the bicycle or we put the reed in our mouth or we feel the dough in our hands. I’ve had those feelings lately with the piano, this longing to connect with 88 pathways to the soul.

But today, having just seen a photo of my two grandchildren on Facebook, I am itching to hold them and hug them and squeeze them and tickle them. Skype is a fun way to connect, but it’s a tease, minus the most important component of touch. Just makes my fingers itch all the more.

And here’s the good news—this weekend, I will be with them again in Portland! The happy circumstance of giving an Orff workshop and getting to visit. And hopefully getting to include them a bit in the workshop! We’ll see how that goes.

Meanwhile, Zadie and Malik, get ready! Pop-pop is ready to hug you!!