Little Woman

- Impromptu -

Bright Face.

This is what my goddaughter’s name translates to from Chinese.

Liang Yen.

For as long as I’ve known her, that is to say, her entire life, she has always lived up to this name. Except for a few occasions, I can’t recall a time I didn’t see her smile or hear her laugh.

Which makes her acting feel like that of a stranger. Her subdued expression, her serious posture.

Sitting in the audience, watching her performance in Little Women.

And I think, my God she’s in high school.

She’s a little woman!

For the past several years (has it been longer?) she’s been my piano student.

And now I’m remembering that first lesson. Me, my wife, and her mother gently, patiently, coaxing her to play just one key.

Just one key!

The ensuing exaggerated response when she finally does.

Suddenly she’s one of my more advanced students. Playing last in the program, her pieces fully memorized. Pulling off a strong performance, most of the time.

She occasionally flubs, which I enjoy more since it avails me the opportunity to poke fun at her later.

One time we were at their apartment, when she could still only crawl. She tries to escape but she’s not fast enough. Kasper quickly reaches her and slobbers all over her face.

He passed away two years ago and she handed me a card. A hand-drawn picture-perfect portrait of him. Words underneath saying he’s in a better place now.

I’ve been eyeing the toy piano on stage all night, the one her mom says she’s going to play on when the cast comes out to sing.

The scene arrives and she sits down at the toy piano. Still in character, she pretends to soundlessly practice.

I notice her hands are shaking and I can't help but smile.

School and theater keep her pretty busy, so she hasn’t been practicing much these days. My wife wonders why she still comes for lessons.

Maybe she's just here for the dogs now, but I don't care.

She’s not going to be a little woman forever.

• • •

Last time I checked, there’s still a video of me online. Full head of hair. Performing a piano concerto with my college orchestra.

The concert concludes. After I bow, the camera pans to the edge of the stage.

Her mother is holding her in place.

Tiny, wobbly legs.

She’s holding flowers.

She has no idea what’s going on. She looks bewildered, confused.

I spot her and immediately jog towards her.

I notice that I'm smiling.