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Baby Grand

My father was a self-taught classical pianist and throughout my childhood the sounds of his music rang through our house.  And in my mind’s eye I can still see him sitting at the baby grand playing a piece by Chopin or Beethoven.  (See Moonlight Sonata)

That baby grand followed my folks from the house I grew up in,  to one they moved to in their later years,  and of course that house too was filled with my dad’s beautiful music – until years later when he died and the piano stood there silently,  as if missing him as much as we did.

And less than three years later my mother was gone,  and the sad task of selling their house fell to us.  Family and friends took some of my folks’  furnishings and keepsakes,  but no one had room for a baby grand.

At a neighbor’s suggestion I advertised in the local paper that the baby grand would be given gratis to someone who would arrange for piano movers to take it.   A lovely young family replied and said they’d love to have it for their musical son.

The movers arrived,  removed its legs,  wrapped the piano securely,  and set it out on my parents’ front porch ready to load on their van.  Then watching that van pull away from the house was heart-wrenching,  but I knew my dad’s baby grand was going to a good home.

And I knew what was a bittersweet ending for our family would be a sweet beginning for another.

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

Dana Susan Lehrman
This retired librarian loves big city bustle and cozy country weekends, friends and family, good books and theatre, movies and jazz, travel, tennis, Yankee baseball, and writing about life as she sees it on her blog World Thru Brown Eyes!
www.WorldThruBrownEyes.com

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