Ascending Notes

I climbed the carved side post of the piano to reach the wide wooden music rack. An open sheet of manuscript paper rested against the dark walnut, printed with rows of crisp black staves. Holding the tortoiseshell pick between my fingers, I rested its smooth bevel against the middle line of the treble clef. Five parallel lines... spaced evenly, much like the strings beneath my hand. I slid the pick slowly upward across the heavy paper, following the black oval notes as they climbed toward the upper register. A quiet progression, waiting to be played. I leaned against the music stand, humming the rising intervals in a low whisper.