Love and Beethoven

When I was in college I spent a summer interning as a museum curator in Death Valley National Park.

Which seems odd to me now on several levels.

So I was in California for weeks on end, and The Mister (before he was The Mister) was lonely and sad in Maryland all by his lonesome.

So he hatched a diabolical plan, as he is wont to do.

He knew that I love classical music - piano solos in particular, and Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata to be very specific. So very quietly, without telling, me, he started taking piano lessons.

He would talk to me on the phone, innocently tell me he was up to nothing in particular, and then laugh with glee and rub his hands together in devilish delight after he hung up.

(Or so I picture it).

So when I came back from my weeks away, The Mister sat me down and stunned me with his fluid rendition of Moonlight Sonata.

Romantic? Oh yes. And true to boot.

Then, when I went away one last time, to study abroad for a semester in Prague our senior year of college, he knew he had his work cut out.

And so he picked up a guitar.

And he's been playing ever since.

And sometimes, people ask him how he started playing the guitar.

And he says, "Well, Sarah went away".

And to him, this explains it all.

(I really love that man)