The Piano


On Thursday I will become the proud owner of an upright piano, a refugee from my boss’ imminent move.

It may be worth mentioning that I do not play piano, nor does my daughter…yet.  I did at least have the presence of mind to arrange piano lessons for my daughter.

Did I mention that I live in a small basement apartment?

My guy told me lovingly that I am crazy.  He is logical, organized and neat, and his apartment is evidence of these wonderful qualities.  He laughingly suggested that maybe I should get a larger apartment before I decided to get a piano.  Of course he’s right, but when someone offers you a piano, it’s fairly certain to be a once-in-lifetime offer.  So the piano is coming and I must make room for it.

The only way to fit the piano into my apartment is to purge…again.  I am actually getting better and better at this since my last move when I moved out of the 2,000 square foot house that I owned with my ex-husband, into an 850 square foot apartment.  Purging is a task that I now approach with relish and anticipation, the filling of boxes wtih the detrius of my former life.  I have come to that place where I am neither sad nor bitter and in fact have no emotional attachment to the bits and pieces of that life.

William Morris said: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.”  It must be 20 years since I first read that quote, but I really didn’t begin to appreciate its meaning until my last move.  And still I possess so many things that are neither useful nor beautiful.

So I can only conclude that the piano is coming into my life to encourage me to take one more incremental step forward towards my future, and one more incremental step away from a life that was not meant to be.

Pianos are like that.


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