Open Letter to My Sister Who Played the Piano When I Was Napping

Dearest Darling Sister,

You've been given the gift of music... Well, if that's what we want to call your two-song piano repertoire containing Heart and Soul and Chopsticks. 

In general, I feel I'm pretty supportive of your musical career. I listen to you play Chopsticks in the mornings. I went to your music class' performance of the 3 Billy Goats gruff. I listen to you play Chopsticks before lunch. I heard your 3rd-grade recorder solo. I listen to you play Chopsticks after lunch. I watched you sing in the church Christmas pageant. I hear you play Chopsticks before bed.

I've been there for all of your musical endeavors, so why would you hold a performance without me? I, asleep at 3 pm on a Sunday, suddenly awoke to hear the familiar clang of Chopsticks on the Yamaha downstairs. Groggy, I took in my surroundings. I was having such a pleasant dream. Then, another bang against the ivory snapped me to attention.

I flung my legs over the side of the bed and sprinted downstairs, "I AM SLEEPING! COULD YOU PLEASE NOT PLAY THE PIANO WHEN I AM SLEEPING?!" I stated calmly. You recoiled at my request. Then, turning back to the piano, you played another note. I struck your arm. You screamed. Footsteps approached—our parents. We made eye contact as we decided who would take the fall to our parents.

Nobly, I volunteered, at least I did after you ushered forth the fact that I had whacked you, and I realized I had no defense. You offered up your now-red arm and shed a single tear. Our parents scowled at me. As punishment, I am forced to write this apology note to you. So here it is. I'm sorry that I hit you, but please, in the future, when you want to grace us with Apollo's gift, do be mindful of when I'm asleep. 

I'm sorry again (I mean it),

Love,

Alicia

P.S. if you do it again, I'll be sure to break your fingers so you can't play that god-awful song anymore.