The piano teacher
I sit now quietly in front of a grand piano in my cousin’s living room. My cousin, Lana, is speaking to me- she had me over for lunch to discuss the family- yet I am distracted by the large instrument that takes up almost half the room. I can only assume
the baby grand was once a shiny black, though because its keys have been played numerous times, its color is noticeably faded. My mother floats through my mind.
“Anastasia!” my cousin stops her rambling and finally notices that I have not been paying attention to a single word. I am suddenly attentive, my eyes refocused on Lana. “Have you even spoken to your parents, lately?”, Lana asks. It has been a while since I had spoken to them. My parents are still in Moldova, running the family fish business. A year and a half ago they had sent me to America to study, while they stayed behind and tended to business. As a young girl of only 19, such a change was overwhelming at times. I came with nothing more than a suitcase, a dream and my education; and as I would find out soon, it was my education that would serve me best.
Growing up, my parents had always emphasized the importance of two things in life- education and discipline. My father was an accomplished business man- managing many other people’s businesses in his lifetime, until finally starting the fishing company that my parents still run today. He had studied numerous subjects, including economics and finance, and always taught me that theory is nothing without application. The success of his businesses are certainly due to a combination of both.
My mother, while also part of the family business, held the main roles of care-taker and educator. My mother never went to University, because it was uncustomary for women in the 1960s to study in Moldova. She did, however, study and play...
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