our piano

A young gal came over to check out the piano I’m in the process of selling. Nothing like a fast track initiative to move a grand piano. I’ve been asked how I feel about parting with an instrument that’s been in the family almost as long as I have. Once my parents showed their willingness to part with it, I was relieved of my guilt for being unable to give it a home. But as I discovered tonight, I am not without feelings for it.

The college girl is a music major. Her and her equally young husband just bought a house and she’s eager to have a piano of her own so she doesn’t have to travel to school any time she wants to play.

She sat down and played scales, then transitioned into free-flowing music. Not only was she proficient, it sounded beautiful. As I leaned against the wall and listened, my eyes misted over. Our piano has not been played in many years. It gets plunked and tinkered with by the kids, but nothing melodic, nothing musical, nothing artistic. An instrument’s sole purpose is to have music come out of it, and when it’s neglected, it creates a void – a sadness – that you suddenly notice when it’s filled with lush music. I instantly wanted this young girl to have it, because she would love it as only a musician could, and the piano would be alive again.

She asked who the player was and I said, "My mom..." Then I pointed at the piano and said, “and I learned to play on this instrument”, then patted Zachary on his head and said, “at about his age.” Talk about a tug on the ol’ heart-strings…