I sat nervously in the back row. I repeatedly tapped my fingers on my pants to the rhythm of Bach’s “Minuet in G”. I was at my piano recital and the pianist ahead of me in the program was nearly finished performing. Her fingers gracefully slid up and down the keyboard, playing Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer”, never missing a single note, or getting off beat. It seemed like the black wood-coated grand piano had been built for her. She’d probably been practicing all her life.
    I just knew everyone would hate my performance. They’d probably think it was like following the London Philharmonic Orchestra with a three year old’s impression of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, on a five note xylophone (and if you don’t know, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” has 6 notes). I was planning to dash into the restroom and pretend I was sick, but the person performing had just finished with a trilled IV chord, followed by an I cord, with a perfect cross-hand arpeggio.
    As soon as the performer ahead of me returned to her seat, Mrs. Kiel, my piano teacher announced in her microphone, “Next up, we have Cole Christie with “Minuet in G” by Bach.”
I gulped. I was sweating now. I looked at my parents.
    They smiled. “You can do it,” my parents assured.
    “You really think so?”
    “We know you can.”
    “Thanks.”
    I got up from my seat, and strode toward the piano, with a little more confidence in my skills. I sat down on the red piano cushion, its padding as soft as silk, relaxing my frayed nerves. The luminous spotlight glared at me with the heat of the sun, but it didn’t matter. I started to play Bach’s lively tune. The white and black piano keys answered to my every touch.
I was nearing the end of the song, but I suddenly stopped. I had just played the wrong chord. The sound was like a dying cat mixed with scratching fingers on a chalkboard. I started sweating again. The spotlight stared at me, laughing. “You failed. You failed,” it mocked.
    However, Mrs. Kiel, from her perch behind my piano gently whispered, “Continue on. You’re doing fine.” I started playing again, slowly and softly, but as my confidence came back, so did the livelihood of the song. Soon, the song was happy, joyful, and upbeat, just the way it was supposed to be. I ended on a splendid G chord. It sounded amazing.
    “Great job,” beamed Mrs. Kiel. She smiled.
    I returned to my seat, where I was greeted with applause and cheer. My parents congratulated me on a job well done. I happily sat down. I hardly paid attention when Mrs. Kiel called up the next performer. I was so happy, I could hardly contain myself. I guess miracles do happen.