I can't believe this is my last week in my hometown. The dream that I've nourished since I was a small kid is finally happening. For so long the idea of me leaving Alpine and moving by myself to New York sounded like an impossible dream, almost like a hallucination created by a desperate mind. Not that I hate where I live, quite the opposite. Alpine has been my entire world since I could understand myself as a person, but I have this flame inside me burning constantly, thirsty for a life that I don't even fully comprehend.

How can I describe this feeling? It is like if an invisible force pulled me to a path that I am still trying to find. Do you ever miss something you have never lived? I know that there is something out there waiting for me. I don't know what, or where, or even when, but I will find it.

The sad part is leaving behind the ones I care for deeply. My best friends, Mia and Thomas, my lovely mother Anna, all my neighbors who basically helped to raise me. It is weird to think I will not wake up and run to Mia's house to have breakfast while we plan our day around exploring the mountains, or observing the stairs in her backyard. Thomas, on the other hand, loves to take us for a ride in his Chevrolet corvette, a present from his old man, while listening to Bob Dylan or Jimmy Hendrix. He is definitely an old soul, I would say, but an amazing friend that I will miss profoundly.

Not only the people, but also Alpine will leave a hole on my heart. It is a great place if you enjoy spending time hiking in the mountains or kayaking in the beautiful lake. Me and my friends' would drive to the White Mountains to stargaze. The clear vision of the sky at night always mesmerized me, it was as if the universe turned on millions of lamps to guide us during the darkness. We would sit there, listening to music, drinking beer, and chatting about our dreams for the future.

Mia Anderson was the only one that truly understood my dreams of leaving the small town in Arizona to pursue a career as a pianist. For everyone else, including my mom, I was being "ungrateful to the town that opened its arms to accept a single mother and a crying baby". I can even hear my mom's voice when I repeat this phrase mentally, that has become her favorite since she discovered I was accepted at NYU.

"Why do you want to move all alone to a big city, if you have everything you need right here?" My mom would ask, almost every time I said anything related to my moving. Doesn't matter if I was asking her about what sweatshirt I should bring, commenting how excited I was to meet some of my professors, or even the theater I would love to perform in one day. All was a reminder of her daughter's departure. I hate seeing her like that. I wish I could live this dream with her by my side, but I knew it was my time to discover who I truly am and if I had any chance to succeed in the career I am choosing.

"Mom, I am tired of explaining it to you. Is not like you are actually trying to understand my reasons."

She sighed deeply and left the room.

Our recent conversations have been like that, avoiding words that could hurt deeply. I knew that for her, seeing me leaving was hard. Since my dad decided Alpine was 'suffocating his ambitions' and moved out, my mom embraced the dad figure for me and became my only family. I always admired how strong she was, coming home after 10 hours of work in the busiest kitchen on town, Cesario's Dinner, with a smile on her face and full of kisses for her little girl.

Mia was different, though. I always felt I could tell her anything and never be judged for it. Others would think she was a simple small-town girl that would end up marrying some local guy and having a lot of kids. "What's is exactly wrong with that?", she asked me one day while licking her vanilla ice cream peacefully. We were sitting on a rock at the park, both of our legs hanging in the hot air of summer in Arizona. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Mia's expression was so serene, as someone who didn't give a shit about peoples' opinion. I smiled at the thought of little Mias running around us and she was right, it didn't sound so bad . . . for her, but it definitely did for myself.

"Would you be happy living here your entire life?" I asked her, my eyes fixed on the lake as I imagined an old version of myself, sitting in the same spot, admiring the same view. "Suffocating!", my inner voice reacted badly to that idea. I shook my head, focusing on Mia.

She finished her ice cream before answering me. I didn't know if she was thinking hard about what to say to me, or if she was just enjoying her time with that vanilla cone. I didn't mind either. I knew she always had something smart to say, or if not, she would hug me, and that felt even better. Mia passed her hand through her dark hair, briefing slowing while she looked at her legs hanging.

After some seconds, she held my hand tight and looked into my eyes. I could see some trace of sadness in them, hidden behind sparks of care. For the first time I wish I could actually stay in Alpine. Not that I didn't realize it before, but at that moment, I could feel that I was already missing my best friend.

"Olivia, my dear, stupid friend." She said, smirking at me. "People have different dreams and it's not wrong to do your best to make them real. You don't have responsibility other than living the best life you can, for yourself."

She pull me close and I laid my head on her shoulder.

"I know your mom is having a hard time, but she loves you. She is just scared of being alone, but you don't worry. I will be here. Thomas also loves her. In fact, everyone on this town loves your mom, she will never be alone. And you, go out there, become the best version of yourself and make all of us really proud . . . and jealous" Mia's hands push me out off of her shoulder, both hands laying on each one of my cheeks, looking deeply in my eyes.

Her light brown, sweet eyes, were full of water and attention. They didn't divert their gaze, they remained facing me as if she was drawing me mentally. I could feel my heart racing on my chest, making its way to my dry throat. Her touch was so soft and warm, her eyes intense but familiar. I couldn't move, and I felt she was also planning to stay in that moment. We stayed looking at each other for god knows how long, until she smiled at me and said with a quiet voice:

"How are you going to survive the city with this puppy eyes, Olivia?"

I heard a ton of genuine worry in her voice. I shook my head, releasing myself from her embrace. 'Why do I feel this warm sensation growing on my stomach', I thought while getting a little uncomfortable about how close our bodies were. The sensation of her thigh close to my skin was oddly good, feeling so familiar and safe. I woke up from my trance with her voice calling my name.

"Olivia?! Is everything okay?" She looks at me suspiciously, as if trying to read me through my eyes.

"Yes". I said with a husky voice. "Do you want to get out of here? How about you help me finishing packing? hmm?" I said trying to sound excited.

____*____

My flight was getting closer. A mix of anxiety, panic, and excitement consumed my emotions. Since I was a kid, I dreamed of being a pianist. My grandpa was an eximious musician. There was no instrument he couldn't play, but piano was his favorite. I remember rushing through my middle school to be the first one at the bus, anxious to get home and have my piano classes.

"Olivia" He said whispering, and I knew exactly what word he will say after. "Pianissimo, my dear. Pianissimo" I repeated moving my lips, without making a sound. I tried to lighten my fingers, barely touching the keys while my feet rested slightly on the soft pedal. My frustration was visible, I couldn't sound as mellow and quiet as my grandpa. When he played, the whole house was filled with emotions, sometimes sad, others romantic. I swear I could touch it in the air and hug it, as my heart raced and my doe-eyes shined.

I wanted so badly for him to be proud of me, but more than that, I wanted to be the best pianist in the world. The idea of being responsible for blooming diverse emotions in all kind of people, to communicate with them through music, fascinated me. As a middle school aged stubborn girl, I couldn't accept that it would take me years of practice to be as good as my grandpa. I wanted so badly to play by his side in concerts around the country that I spent all my free time training, dreaming that next summer I would break free.

"There are 2 types of pianists, Olivia. One that plays so well that the sound of their piano fills all the room with a tremendous, fascinating, sound. Their music is full of life and emotions, occupying every space with its notes and melodies. However, the second type plays so quietly that no one dares to move to not disturb or miss anything. The last one keeps everyone's attention fully, filling the room with mesmerizing eyes and quiet observants. This pianist is audacious, it requires a lot of courage to transmit emotions in whispers, talking directly to hearts. Never forget that, my little volcano". His smile was so bright, a soul that truly enjoyed life in each and every aspect, as if even the bad moments were a reason to make music.

I never forgot his words. On my last year of middle school, my grandpa, Alfredo Harding, the best pianist I ever met, died in his sleep. I can't describe the agony that raised in my chest when I left school to meet my mom on our couch, crying like a baby. His funeral was full of musicians, his friends from all over the world playing together, respecting his dying wish for a happy and musical last goodbye.

After that day I decided that playing piano was more than a dream, it would become my whole life.

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Pianissimo

I will be updating a new chapter weekly, so stay put for updates.

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