He started coming to my home when he was just 5 years old. Every week he showed up for a half-hour piano lesson, usually accompanied by one of his parents.

For several years I taught piano in the evenings after my regular daytime teaching gig at the detention center. So many great memories from that period! All my piano students were wonderful. I enjoyed their distinctive personalities, and I loved watching them progress and evolve.

The thing that stood out with this particular student, however, was his zest for all of life. Bright-eyed and high energy, Carter had an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. He was pure and innocent and always cheerful. When he’d arrive for his lesson, he would routinely come bounding happily up the stairs, music in hand. I’d like to think it was because he was so eager to learn to play the piano. The truth is, he seemed to have that passion for everything.

He loved to engage with people, kids and adults alike. He would chat with the other piano students whose paths crossed his at lessons.

Happy diversions

Frequently, my husband would get home from work while Carter was having his lesson. Although my husband came inside quietly, Carter never missed his entrance. Sometimes he hopped off the bench and ran to greet him. Sometimes he suddenly leaped up and ran to hide, trying to surprise him. And sometimes he remained on the bench and kept playing his song. With eyes fixed on the music and fingers moving along the keyboard, he would merely call out lightheartedly, “Hi, Rick!”

When he began taking lessons, Carter struggled to stay focused after about 20 minutes. At that point, he would start leaning backwards on the piano bench. Then I, seated in a chair next to the bench, would reach over and prop him back up. Often times, he seemed to develop a serious itching problem right in the middle of a song. So, I would start scratching his back long enough to get him to the end of the piece.

And then there were his hugs, his wonderful hugs.

All through the first couple years he would leap from the piano bench and throw his arms around my neck. He did this, not just once, but multiple times during our 30-minute session. I never knew when one was coming, but I delighted in them all.

When he got a little older, he and his parents devised a set of rules for piano lessons. At the beginning of each lesson he placed the short list on the music stand alongside his piano book. The big rule I remember is the one stating that he should limit his hugs to one at the beginning of the lesson and one at the end. That rule seemed to take a little longer to master than the others. But, with a few reminders along the way, he learned to hold back on the hugs and to make the most of his lesson time.

Growing up

Those days are long gone now. I see this young man occasionally, and I even get a hug now and then, though sometimes I’m now the one to initiate it. Still sweet and fun-loving albeit now more reserved, he appears to be a typical teenager.

I know that’s how it should be. Still, I miss that 5-year-old. I miss the openness, and I miss those spontaneous displays of affection.

I guess what I really wish is that we could all act a little more like the 5-year-old Carter. I wish we all sought out connections with others the way he did. And I wish we all lived more playfully with that childlike gusto and sense of awe.

These COVID days have changed our lives dramatically. Like many others, I’ve found myself riding an emotional roller coaster. Recently though, when I’ve felt myself starting to freefall, I’ve tried to channel some of that little boy’s love of life. I’m watching the birds and the squirrels outside my window with renewed curiosity and amazement. I feel invigorated when I breathe the crisp autumn air deeply into my lungs. And though I’ve seen them year after year, I am still awed by the beauty of the fall leaves. I’m trying hard to stay in the moment and to keep my focus on all things positive.

But hugs—I can’t do much in that category. They’ve taken a huge hit since the onset of this pandemic. I think we’re all mourning the limited physical contact of these days.

Connections

When these dark days are finally behind us, if I’m still around, I hope I never go back to the old normal. No, I want to slow down and to hold on to the deeper appreciation I’m feeling now. For a simpler life. For a deeper commitment to things like grace and mercy. For the magnificence of nature. For human togetherness.

And when it comes to those hugs—no, I don’t want to go back to my old way of doing that either. In this case, I don’t think the old way was good enough. No, I want to make sure people know how strongly connected to them I feel. So look out! I’m hoping to make up for all the time we’ve lost. Whenever it becomes safe to do so, I plan to act more like that little boy—unabashedly free in doling out hugs.

Thanks for the lessons, Carter!