I started taking piano lessons when I was 5 and I took them until I was 17. I was never very good at playing, however, I worked my way through the Royal Conservatory program passing my Grade 8 Piano and my Grade 2 Theory. This was at a time when achieving these 2 milestones actually gave me a Grade 13 credit. My lessons were taken on my grandfather's piano....a Hammond, I think in a solid oak body. That piano weighs a ton!!!
Since I can remember, I have been told that the piano would be mine someday.
As we moved around when I was young, I recall the piano having to be taken apart in order to move it. My sister reminded me of a story the other day. We were moving from 1 house in Erindale to another. The piano was in the basement in the house that we were moving out of and it had to be dismantled to be moved (I was devastated to see "my" piano in a million pieces). When we got to the new house, the mover carefully laid all the pieces out on the floor, looked at me (Knowing how upset I was) and said "I hope that you know how to put this puzzle back together because I'm not sure that I do". Needless to say, I burst into tears and my sister, Linda (who was paying close attention) burst into gales of laughter.
Today that piano is being moved again. It is indeed now mine and I am sitting here waiting for it to arrive. Linda texted me at 8:30 this morning to let me know that the piano was on the truck and the truck was pulling out of the driveway. It is, at most a 4 hour drive between my mother's house (it is still hers until the end of May) and mine.......it is now 2:30 and .....no piano.
I know that it will arrive, safe and sound, however, I have visions of my sister having asked the movers to stop and dismantle the piano on the way just for my reaction. Linda, I would burst into tears again, then I would kill you.
Come on piano, I can't wait to have you in my house.
