I was rummaging around this bag of words for songs, staves, keys, accidentals (YOU were not that; you were so absolutely wanted, planned and sought after) and I came upon it. A title. Notes. My finally finished piano piece is Notes To Katrina. I like it so much, the song, not the title, that I copied it, posted it and received it. (This is my first full piano piece for piano without voice, hands not just doing chords.) It is tucked away under the Clavinova in an unsealed envelope, with a title. I have copyright!
I think it is obvious from the video and the music what these notes say. These photos from the beginning of your life and all the way so far. Fewer photos recently, Katrina, because you are pretty clear about what you don't like and do like, what I may post and what I may not.
Katrina Joy Gillies, my song to you. That photo at the top of the mountain when you were in primary four. You are so determined, my girl. Noisy, often, and determined. That reminded me of your surprising us at the age of 4, when you walked up Les Milles Marches, from Langlade, in the south of France. Older children have asked to turn back sooner. The Kenmore Walk, when you were 8, when you thought you would walk at the back and did so for the first three miles, complaining about the older girls, and then you took it in your head to overtake as many people as you could. So we ran. You left me behind at mile seven and overtook almost everybody else. When I arrived you were on a bit of tired high, pleased to have eaten so many cakes.
I hope you can hear in these notes my joy, my pride, your determination, my sadness at leaving, our differences, our similarities, and this HUGE love.
I love you so much more than my notes can possibly say.
