While With-a-Why is at his piano lesson, I have 30 minutes of free time in the piano studio. Sometimes I bring my laptop along and write a blog post. Sometimes I'll grade some papers. Sometimes I'll read the newspaper or a book I've brought along.
Other times, I'll inch my chair over to a spot where the sun is falling through the big picture windows and soak in the warmth, relaxing and daydreaming. Bits of piano music will come drifting from under the two doors behind me, mixed with the murmur of voices as teachers talk to students. I'll watch the sun slanting off the different pianos – sleek black pianos, old wooden ones with intricate carvings, battered wooden benches, and shining new wood pianos. Sometimes the lids will be propped open, and I can walk around to peer inside these instruments, at the little wooden hammers and the metal strings and the red bits of felt, and try to figure out where that music comes from.