The auction had already started when we arrived. We hadn’t gone with the intention of buying anything, but Matt registered as a bidder anyway. You know, just in case.
I’d never been to an auction before, especially an antiques auction. I’m not really an antiquey type person to be honest. I can’t tell the good from the bad, or the ugly. And trust me, there was some pretty ugly stuff there that went for a pretty high price. And who am I to question someone elses obviously poor taste. Out loud, anyway.
Finding it hard to keep track of all the goings on, my eyes wandered to the corner of the room, where a beautiful old piano sat, in amongst $300 {ugly} ceramic dolls, a battle-worn double bass, and furniture that wasn’t quite deserving of the title Antique. Not in my mind anyway.
I’ve always wanted a piano. Not that I have the slightest ability to elicit anything remotely musical from one. Apart from chopsticks. Barely. But I have a dream that one day that will change.
Before Matt and I were married, I had a housemate that taught piano. And played like you wouldn’t believe. I wasn’t jealous of her at all. While Matt and I were still engaged she was sitting at her piano one night, composing as she played. I remember closing my eyes and feeling lost in the beauty of it, and personally attached to it at the same time. I ended up walking down the aisle to it. As she was playing that night she was thinking of us, and this is what resulted.
I guess I’ve always been envious of people with musical giftings (yes, I lied earlier when I said I wasn’t jealous), and their ability to create a world into which they can disappear whenever they please. And I guess I’ve always dreamt that perhaps if I had my own piano I’d be more inclined to learn to play it. Or maybe I’d simply wake up one day and be able to. But I need a piano first for this to happen.
Well now I have one. We bid on a piano yesterday that we’d not even opened the lid on, or struck the keys (though I’d managed to swat Jaedon’s hands away a few times). And we won. Gulp. How did that happen?
Now if someone can tell us how to get a piano up 20 stairs, with a right angle turn in the middle, surrounded by concrete bannisters, we’d be eternally grateful. For now my baby is sitting downstairs in the garage, where I wander down to every now and then just to remind myself that it’s real. And to dream a little too. And to encourage the kids to make as much noise on it as they want. Though the neighbours mightn’t share my vision.
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* Just a little note to add here, as Matt is researching it on his laptop beside me (a little late, but hey) and it looks like, from the serial number, it was made in the late 1800’s. How cool is that. Imagine the fingers that have danced on those keys over the years, and the dreams that have been dreamed. I’m looking forward to adding a few more to it’s story.