Tuesday, May 17, 2005

 

Piano

I miss my piano. Every time I listen to the beginning of the song ‘100 years’ by Five For Fighting (like this morning in the car on the way to work), I want to sit in front of my piano and figure out the notes. However, my piano is in Missouri and I’m not. I’ve talked to my parents about shipping my piano out here, but everytime I start to save the money, something else comes up. I should just sell it and buy one here… but that is *my* piano. It’s more than just a piano. It’s not the physical value, it’s the sentimental worth. When I was a kid, I could lose myself for hours sitting at my piano when noone was around. Playing it transported me to a safe, secure place. I believe that’s what New Agers would call “My Happy Place”. *grin*

Another fond memory of playing piano (this time, not my own) was at camp in Michigan where I used to work summers. There was an observatory on the cliff of a large dune, overlooking a sandy beach and Lake Michigan. This wooden structure was octagonal, was mostly surrounded by glass, and had a deck that wrapped around the outside. There was a piano in this one-room building. I could sit in there, play the piano, and watch the sunset on Lake Michigan, or could see storms blowing in across the lake. There were days that I never wanted to leave. It's one of those memories that is engraved in your mind like a favorite movie, you can replay every sight and sound, feeling and emotion.

Comments:
Aw...I felt the same way about my old guitar. I'd had it for a long time and the sentimental value was well beyond actual, then my cat sustained a life-threatening neck injury so I sold it to pay for the surgery. Fifteen years later, I still miss that old guitar -- but my cat's still right here with me.
 
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