Keys to the kingdom

            I have my own keys to our towering UU church on the hill in downtown Bangor. They were assigned to me years ago when I was co-director of the religious education program for a year. Ever since, they have allowed me early morning rehearsal access on the Sundays when I’m providing piano music.
            My favorite part is walking into the cavernous sanctuary alone. I turn on the lights, pull the heavy drape off the piano, and set myself up in the empty space. Having keys to the building offers a unique insider status, despite my rare appearances at church these days. I am here, in possession of this moment in solitude, my church home.
            I have more keys, eighty-eight of them on the piano laid out before me, mute, awaiting my touch. Those silent keys intimidate, evoke palpitations and trembling hands, but they also convey power, responsibility, promise. The kingdom of church is mine alone for an hour, while I run through my music. The kingdom of music is mine, of my own creation, filling this reverberant chasm. In anticipation of my offering to the congregation, of bringing this grand instrument to life under my touch, I am united with the space, the piano, the community of shared spirit. I have been to church, sated with spiritual resonance, even before the minister arrives.
 
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 181: 223 words, TOTAL = 29,709; 30,291 remaining