Numbers and letters swim across my page. Great.
I've been doing the same project for hours without any improvement. I shove my hair into a bun for the umpteenth time and tell myself this time I'll get it; but I feel the tears of frustration starting to well up.
As I stare at the paper, I hear the gentle pawing of piano keys, slow and careful, not wanting to disturb the silence of the house.
But it does.
It penetrates through the walls of homework and stress, and without even thinking about it, I float towards the piano. My feet sweep the floor as colors dance in my mind; blues and reds and purples mingle together as the notes swing and dip.
My brother is playing one of our favorite songs, and my voice finds the melody.
He smiles, and although he doesn't say it, I know he's thinking "I told you so;" he knew I would drop everything and join him. I smile, rolling my eyes. "Whatever," I tell him back.
He and I are back in sync, inseparable like always. I don't know who's leading-- the singer or the pianist-- but it doesn't matter. After seventeen years, no one has to lead anyway.
My voice cracks, and I make a face. He pretends not to notice, so I pretend not to hear when he messes up a few notes.
We finish one song. And another. And another, until two hours pass. But neither one of us really wants to stop. The house echoes with life, and I feel the vibrations in my bones.
There's a pause. My brother found something new. I shrug. Okay, let's try it-- anything to keep the music going.
I relax a bit once the piano picks up again. I recognize this song, but I don't remember from where. I lean over his shoulder to read the sheet; he tell me my breath reeks, so I make it a point to make sure he smells it in all its glory.
I start making up lyrics when I realize that I only know the tune. He corrects my increasingly absurd phrases, and I hear the laughter in his voice.
I watch as he sways with each chord, a familiar movement, but one I don't think he notices. And I find myself swaying too, taking in the notes as they float around me. My voice rises higher and higher as I'm pushed and pulled with each chord and crescendo.
We start to put away the music, but a flash of green catches our eye. We know that if we start playing from this book, we won't finish for at least another hour.
I look back at my homework, the papers still littering the ground and the pens still strewn across the floor.
Alright. One more song.