A Quick Note to Note the Notes About Notes

It's a rare moment anymore that I'm able to sit at the piano and play a piece of my choosing.  But tonight, playing Mozart's Sonata I, a piece I first worked-up for an All-State audition in high school, I came across some notes.  Not just the musical ones, but the notes my piano teacher made almost 30 years ago to remind me how to play certain sections.  Mozart was criticized by some for having too many notes in his compositions, the musical ones that is.  Maybe my teacher should've made more notes, or I should've practiced the notes more.  Either way, I wasn't selected for All-State, but the measures of the section I played are still numbered.  In college I worked up more of the piece, and the red-inked lines drawn by my piano professor still remind me how to play the triplets against the eighth-notes.  Years from now when a great grandchild inherits my music, she may not even notice those red lines or numbered measures, or if she fancies them in passing, she may wonder who marked up this music and why.  She too may struggle to play triplets against eighth-notes, and for a brief moment we will be united across time -- two pianists who needed a reminder on how to play a tricky passage.  I know I've looked at old pieces of music that I've inherited from who knows who and noticed the sections that pianist struggled with.  Sometimes I appreciate those notes that warn me of difficult notes ahead, and sometimes I get haughty and scoff at the notes needed to play notes.  "How could you not get that?" I question the pianist of the past.  But I must refrain (pun intended) from being too disdainful lest my future great granddaughter be a pretentious pianist patronizing her predecessor.  Alliteration duly noted.