On a weekend road trip, far away from home,
you stumble upon a garage sale in a neighborhood you’re passing through.
Astonished, you find an object among the belongings for sale that you
recognize. Tell us about it.
I really
wasn’t sure about it at first….I mean, it had been so abused in the years since
I had seen it that it was only a shell of its former glory, but underneath the
dust and grime, you could still see where the sunlight through the windows of
our living room on Westmoreland Street caused the stain to bleed and made that
coppery red color stand out around the inlay on the top.
I had once
been so attached to this antique (now really antique) grand piano that my
parents had purchased together when we were just babies. Everyone who ever saw it from guests at our
homes where the piano traveled with us and was stored over the years to movers
and piano tuners commented on what a beautiful instrument it was and how they
had never seen anything like it. And I
had the privilege of learning how to play on it and practiced daily (well,
maybe not EVERY day, but for sure weekly) making music on its perfectly tuned
black and white keys for over 7 years during the days I was taking
lessons. I already loved music, but
learning how to play everything from children’s songs and church hymns to
classical and popular music of the day, I gained a new respect for music and
broadened my horizons about the world through the tunes played. I learned how just sitting and playing could
bring peace to my soul and help me work through emotions or bring joy to others
and myself.
The piano
moved with my mom and I from the house on Westmoreland to our smaller home
where it stayed until I left for the islands. A couple of years after I moved
overseas, my mom ended up moving too and into a smaller place that wouldn’t fit
the piano. She knew I didn’t want her to sell it, so she kindly “gifted” it to
me, and I had to find a place to store it. My in-laws at the time were sweet
enough to put it in their home, but a few years later, I had to move it again
due to my divorce. This time it went into my temperature controlled storage
unit and stayed there until we moved back to the states.
My parents
kept it at their house for awhile because it would cost so much to ship it to
me across the country, but finally I let go of it, told them that I didn’t foresee
ever having a place to put it and considering I didn’t even really play much
anymore, it really wasn’t practical to keep it.
It was of only sentimental value then.
My parents ended up selling it to someone, and we lost track of it, so I
was shocked to identify it at a garage sale! It’s sad to see that others didn’t
treasure it or understand its unique value like my family did, but I guess
that’s how it works with sentimental value anyway. Those who don’t know the
history of a thing and have no attachment to it won’t take care of it like
those who love it.
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