I am listening to my "Very Best of Chopin" CD which has long been usurped for "Nocturnes," but now my CD player is broken and will only play certain (probably expensive) CD's, so I am hearing this one for the first time in years. It is this indelible ache when I hear "Prelude in D-flat Minor;" remembering listening to it over and over again in my Granada... in my old CD player... looking out at the bluebonnets and goatweed and just... feeling . I had no idea then that such times are finite, that someday I would have none of those things, that I would have to start all over again. And I didn't know I even could. I didn't know someday I wouldn't have Gregory; or that home; I had no clue I would have a nicer car, but I didn't care, then; I could play the piano then. I could thrill myself with my own music then. How I want to play now. I die to play now, and I can't, really. There's Nathan's keyboard, but I never know how to mak...