The Piano

Someday I’ll re-learn how to play the piano.

There’s always been a baby grand piano in the living room - wall to one side, window to the other. Pop was a musical man, and even though he was a drummer at heart, he always enjoyed tapping at the keys whenever a swell of emotion hit. That’s one of the sounds from my childhood. I knew he was in a great mood anytime I heard those chords. Both my parents tried to get me to play, but I didn’t take to it. It was probably the teacher. I learned it, learned how to read sheet music, but I didn’t have the mechanics and wasn’t inspired by the old melodies.

It’s being taken away today, that baby grand piano with a wall to one side, window to the other. Mom’s selling it. I understand the decision, it wouldn’t get played now that pop’s not here, and if it doesn’t get sold now it won’t be for a long time. So I get it, really I do, but that doesn’t make it any less sad for me. I mean … it made one of my favorite sounds.

I said my goodbyes last night. Played one final song, one last melody. I hope to see it again one day, not that one specifically, but one like it or at least a good keyboard. When I have my own place, I’ll learn to play again. There are a couple songs I want to practice.