About 4 years ago I bought a used piano.  I thought I was quite thrifty getting the piano for $300. The same person who moved it tuned it.  It has a lovely sound.

I have a vivid memory of getting it.  He gave me more grief about that piano.  When I shared my intention of getting it he had a fit.  I was so excited to get such a nice piano so inexpensively, and that the children and I could take lessons together.  He was insistent that I shouldn’t bother taking lessons ‘at my age’. He reminded me regularly that I wasted money on buying the piano, that it would just sit there unused.  He seemed to totally ignore the fact the children took weekly lessons and played almost daily.  He never sat and listened.

I ended up paying for the children’s lessons.  As much as I wanted to take lessons with them, there were things I was just too tired to fight for.  I’d played classical guitar from age twelve until early when we first lived together. Because it wasn’t to his musical taste he asked me to not play when he was around. I played when I was alone.  It couldn’t be another room; it had to be when he wasn’t there. 

It was all a fight.  Eventually I grew tired of fighting and threw up the white flag rather than engage in yet another disagreement.  As I had with guitar, it seemed easier to just give up the piano.

Occasionally now as I pass by to do laundry or go upstairs, I will sit and play. I tend to play very sad songs and I sometimes imagine my piano holds my sadness.

I have a friend who plays it.  It is calming to listen.  I feel a small victory in hearing it played so beautifully.  Actually, I feel a huge victory when it is played, finally feeling validated that I made the right choice in acquiring the piano.   

“The time of singing has come”