Up and down, back and forth, quiet and loud.
That is how our relationship went.
My mother was above and beyond. Her mind full with hopes of creating a Chinese Shirley Temple.
But as she ran her hands back and forth through my hair I could feel her hopes mixing with the water as they both escaped the sink.
I thought the piano might fix things.
I played half-heartedly with a deaf instructor who was blind to the force that was making me play that instrument.
The keys were raised and lowered until one missed note turned all sound to silence.
I had always wished that I was dead, but I never wished that I could play.
And that is how our relationship went:
Short periods of beautifully decent music that ended abruptly.