No crying he makes

Every afternoon when he comes over, Little Biker Boy brings me a little yellow flower, which he presents to me proudly. Even though I know he’s picked the flower from the pot of chrysanthemums on my own porch, I love the gesture. Usually I set the little flower on the piano, where I can see it while I’m practicing.

I don’t know yet what is going to happen to the little neighbor kids at the end of the month. They’ve been evicted: they will need to go someplace. I hope they end up someplace within bike-riding distance from my house, but that is pretty unlikely. Because she relies entirely on public assistance, their mother doesn’t have a whole lot of choices.

The song I’ve been practicing on the piano, over and over and over again, is Away in the Manger. It’s an arrangement by Martha Mier. It’s the most difficult song I’ve played yet (hey, remember, I’ve been taking lessons for less than a year), and I’ve really struggled with playing with both hands.

Every once in a while, when I take a break from my stiff, laborious practicing, With-a-Why will come over and sit down at the piano. Before turning to his own music, he’ll play Away in the Manager.

With-a-Why plays beautifully, and it helps me to hear him play the song, just so I know what I’m aiming for. I watch his hands moving gracefully over the keys, I listen to the music, and I look at the little yellow flower. I know the song is supposed to be a Christmas Carol, and the holidays are supposed to be a happy time of year, but the music sounds heartbreakingly sad to me.