Skip to main content

the piano fairy

last night around 10:40 p.m.
Owen sticks an elbow in my ribs and says,
"is that the piano fairy?"

I had just fallen asleep.
but, I rubbed my eye and looked up to see a strange man in my bedroom.
older, balding, wearing a jumpsuit and a little creepy looking.

"yes, Owen, that is the piano fairy".
He went scrambling out of bed to watch and
this stranger and Shaun rolled a piano into our bedroom.

My old piano.
The one I learned to play chopsticks on.
and some song about a little Indian.
and the one your only use your knuckles to play.
and a few real recital worthy songs as well.
and practiced for hours.
or at least it felt like hours.
The one my brother and sister played.
And the one my mother could play beautifully.

Owen plopped down on the bed while they unloaded it from the dolley.
His eyes were big and wide and he asked, "We're getting a real live piano?"

I giggled and hoped he didn't think this was like getting a puppy.
"Yes, Owen a real live piano"

But it is alive.
Kind of.
It is big and brown and shiny and holds some beautiful potential inside.

I'm sure Shaun will be digging out the old sheet music for moonlight sonata.
and I will remember a few bars of fur elise.
and teach Owen chopsticks.
and even let Tess bang around to her delight.
and we will have our own "real live piano".

Thanks mom and dad.

Comments

Sarah said…
M-

this post made me a little teary. That's exactly how I felt when my parents gave me my childhood piano. And while I'm no virtuoso, and will NOT be playing in front of anyone anytime soon, I've loved having it in my home. I'm very excited for y'all!
samskat said…
My parents have 2 pianos at the moment...my mom's childhood piano, and mine. As soon as we're somewhere permanent (i.e. not an apartment), we'll get a visit from the piano fairy too!! I can't wait. :)
Beth (and Eric) said…
Aww, that is sweet. I love you guys. :)

Popular posts from this blog

different

Someone recently sent me a meme about tattoos. I reminded them that I have over half a dozen, although none in such obvious places as the picture. I thought about it while I washed my hair, and how once my hair was also purple, and what kind of memes could be found about that. And also, my nose was pierced. Other than the first two tattoos, none of these were things I did in my youth. All were in my thirties. Currently my hair is a plain brown in a sensible cut. My tattoos all easily hidden with most clothing and only my ears are pierced. As this decade closes I have made efforts to dress more professionally, drink less, stay on top of the laundry although I still refuse to make my bed and talk at an appropriate volume level. Yet, I only looked back on my purple-haired days with longing rather than regret. See, I used to do those things to be different.   Sometimes I’d feel just a little trapped by my suburban life although perfect, felt a little too predictable. I fel...

voice

I remember waking up the day after the election tired and stunned. When I got to work I went downstairs to make copies and make some tea and did not make it back to my classroom until right before the tardy bell rang. I have a large class, full of all kinds of students from all kinds of backgrounds. I had not even thought about how they would respond to the election and that since we begin school so early that I might be the first adult they saw that day.  Immediately an African American on the front row told me that she was disappointed in our country. I teach science, not government and thought that I needed to turn the conversation as quickly as I could safely back to the objectives on the board, but I could not ignore her hurt and the rest of the quiet in the room. I told her that  regardless of what candidate she supported that this country is run by more than one person, that very soon she would be able to vote, that she had a voice. Behind her, a student that also ha...

multiple choice

As I write I am procturing a test ( yes on a Saturday, and no I am not getting paid for it.) The room is silent. The only noises I hear are pencils scratching on papers and pages turning. If I listen closely enough I swear I can hear their brains turning. I have always been a good test-taker. I would still regularly brag about my SAT scores if it wre socially appropriate to do so(or an actual indicator of anything meaningful). There is something comforting about multiple choice. (well as long as you don't have the crappy all of the above or none of the above choices...just the classic A, B, C, D variety). There are parameters. Multiple choice means you have options. The right answer is right in front of you, and all you have to do is find it. Even if you don't actually know which one the right answer is there are usually clues, it can be narrowed down or worked backwards. Even a blind guess is likely to be right 25% of the time. These aren't bad odds. All you have t...