Tick, tick, tick..

The metronome.. tick.tick.tick.tick.tick.tick.tick

For me it a love hate relationship. For years I have hated it. Loathed it. Despised it. For years I refused to own one. Although since I am a pianist and have played since I was 4 I should have such a strong aversion to them. I used to cry when my Mom would make me play with it. I would play crazy in spite of it. It drove me crazy. I didn't see how it worked, I couldn't count 1 and 2 and 3 and a 4, play the right notes, listen to the metronome and stay sane at the same time. I would get mad and think it was all wrong. I have hated that blasted thing. My piano teacher would beat the piano with a pencil. I could tolerate that only slightly more. I have always despised it. I didn't see the point and I was sure I could do it fine without it.

Something happened over the past couple of years. And finally this year I asked for a metronome for Christmas, (I had just been told I was being called as ward organist). But I didn't want just a plain black box I wanted one like I grew up with. One that moved. I had gotten used to the feeling of swaying with it over my adult years after several tears and silent curses on the blasted thing. I slowly would watch it move and feel the movement and the beat would stay in me. I would play the music as the composer intended instead of the way I believed it should be written. I learned to use it properly. Randy surprised me with this beautiful metronome that matches my piano for Christmas. And it is used often. And as I use it I sway and I feel the beat and I play my music correctly. After sitting for hours at the piano each week preparing the music for each Sunday to play it correctly I am extremely grateful for this gift. My metronome is one of my favorite gifts I have ever received. I find it ironic. And each time I wind it after it has wound down I giggle at myself and my hate of the metronome.