Her Piano

The piano stands in the living area, in the exact same spot it has been standing for the past 6 years since it was brought along from the previous house. Once, a long time ago, the piano produced delightful melodies under the tentative fingertips of its young owners. Week after week, they practiced on it for their weekly piano lessons, annual concert and annual exams. Classical songs, pop songs, chords, scales, arpeggios, random senseless noise, the piano has produced them all. But that was a long time ago…

Over the years, the piano was replaced by other “more important” activities. Lessons were stopped and the piano was played less and less. Gradually, the piano lapsed into a period of silence. It was a black piano, but it could easily have been a white elephant, for all the difference it made.

Then 4 years ago, during a particularly sad day, she was drawn towards the piano for some inexplicable reason. Unexpectedly, she found comfort in playing the piano… As she played, the tears fell. The tears clouded her vision… She couldn’t see the keys but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to see the keys. She was simply letting her fingers dance along the keys they were so familiar with. Before, practicing the piano caused her endless amounts of frustration. Now though, the piano was her outlet for ventilation… a private world where she could escape to block out all unhappiness and frustration, even if it was for those few minutes.

From then on, she returned to the piano whenever she was upset. In fact, she thought of the piano only when she was unhappy. It was during these moments that she put all her feelings into her playing. It was these times that she played best and the music didn’t sound hollow. Sometimes she played in the day, sometimes she played at night. But she always played when she was alone, never with anybody else around. Over time, it was no longer the piano… She had come to view it as her piano…

Throughout this time, there were numerous discussions to sell the piano. The reasons were always the same: nobody plays the piano anymore; it only takes up space. She would always object to the sale of the piano and insist on keeping it. Sometimes, immediately following such discussions, she would play the piano for a few days just to prove that someone was playing the piano but at those times, the melodies always sounded strangely hollow to her ears. Nobody asked why she was so insistent on keeping the piano… and she never did explain.

Her piano stands in the living area, in the exact same spot it has been standing for the past 6 years since it was brought along from the previous house. Once, a long time ago, the piano produced delightful melodies under the tentative fingertips of its young owners. Week after week, they practiced on it for their weekly piano lessons, annual concert and annual exams. Classical songs, pop songs, chords, scales, arpeggios, random senseless noise, the piano has produced them all. But that was a long time ago…

Her piano now produces soulful melodies under her fingertips. Usually dark and haunting but always infused with emotions. And always alone…