* Don’t forget to leave a comment on the post Expecting to win a copy of Marla Taviano’s pregnancy prayer guide!
** If you’re wondering where the next installment of Young Love Letters is, it’s coming! The next part I’m finding a bit tricky and it’s stuck inside my head. I also was gone last weekend and didn’t get my Saturday morning writing spree in, and then I came down with a cold. So…I’m still sorting through letters! Don’t worry!
As of last weekend, the piano I learned how to play on now sits in my living room. It’s the piano my grandparents bought for my mom when she was learning how to play. How I wish the piano could talk. I’m sure it would have some fascinating stories to tell.
She (for certainly if the piano had a gender it would be she) would likely tell you of my mother as a young girl, with long brown wavy hair, sitting at her keys practicing her scales and song assignments. She would tell you how my mother used her to get out of drying dishes and how much that annoyed my aunt.
She would tell you of the times my cousin who now writes famous country music songs graced her with his talent.
She would tell you how I tortured her for years with my practice attempts. She would tell you how early in my piano career there was a simple “Indian” song that I could. not. get. right. I tried and tried but always missed a certain couple notes. She would likely chuckle as she told you about how my Dad, who does not play the piano, in exasperation, sat down and played the little song correctly.
She could tell you how in recent years my own children would sit next to my mother and plink her treble clef keys while my mom played Sunday school songs.
She would get teary eyed as she told you how the day after she arrived at my house, T-Rex sat down next to me and asked to play a real song. She’d tell you that his little index finger gently pushed down each of her keys that I pointed to as he played “Polly put the kettle on.”
I wish the piano could talk and that she might have offered me a bit of advice in my youth. I wish she could have encouraged me to relax and enjoy the music, to let it soak into my soul. That I’d never be a concert pianist, and that’s ok, because someday I’d have the most adorable audience ever – two of my own little music lovers. The gift of music is just that – a gift, one to be opened, treasured and enjoyed.
I hope your weekend is filled with music! As for me, I’ll be writing love stories and listening to the new Adele album!
Oh…my piano would have some interesting stories as well. It lived with a family before it was donated to the church we attended. It was used in worship services, VBS weeks, weddings, funerals…and was played by one of the finest pianists I’ve ever known (and I’ve known a fair share).
I’m not a good technical player. I look at the notes and make the song sound how I best like (and that’s usually not the way it was written…because it’s easier my way).
But this piano is one of my very favorite things. Purchased at a church auction…no one else wanted her (see my piano is also a lady…her name is Ophelia). I got her for $150 in birthday and Christmas money.
My guitar (Pearlie Lou) could also tell many stories…
She would talk about getting promoted to her new home in MI. She finally arrived where she really always wanted to be. She was smiling the entire way.
Oh man…if the piano at my granny’s could talk! Oh the stories! 😉 So many wonderful memories around the paino. Glad your paino is now in your home. What great memories will be created on her!
Susie – of course your piano has a name! LOL. Wow. It’s had quite the life!
Jen – Oh I bet your Granny’s piano could write a book!!