Over the years I’ve written and spoken about buying a piano. I apologize for any who’ve already heard this one before (but maybe, like all good songs, it’s worth replaying occasionally)….
We bought this piano during a time that I was at the lowest low of depression, and needed some way out. I’d taken years of lessons as a young girl and had this inkling of a desire to play and sing again. So we bought an inexpensive yet serviceable digital piano from our favorite local music store. And I bought some music. Mostly showtunes and Enya and some Sting and a bit of Cat Stevens. Playable singable stuff.
It took my fingers awhile to remember how to play. And my voice was creaky and weak (I was also suffering from chronic bronchitis and had a physician who wasn’t helping me to get better), but my abilities grew as I kept playing. My kindergartener and toddler liked playing, too, and they could even recognize the Disney tunes and church melodies.
That piano was a catalyst to my finding my voice again. That, and I started taking classes at a community college with an eye towards graduate school. And soon after I started blogging–these words became my therapy to express the numbness happening inside my head…
Long story short: the kids played piano for a few years and then moved on to other instruments that they liked better. I rarely played much anymore because I had papers to write or to grade. The piano turned into a dust-gatherer that moved from room to room. It lived at a friend’s house for awhile and got some good use there, but it wasn’t getting any attention at ours.
So on Sunday, we moved our piano to our Quaker Meetinghouse. The very best part of that move? Knowing that it will continue to bring light to those who hear the music. I especially love the intention to use the piano for inter-generational singing. Perfect.