Music Closet

I have a piano in my closet.

My lovely sister in law has an electronic full-size keyboard/piano thing that was hanging out at my in-laws house, and she told me we could use it until she had a house big enough for it. When we first brought it down, the only spot for it was in the closet in my office, where it fits perfectly. True story.

When I was a kid, my mom had a piano she and my dad had bought. I loved to play around on it. When I was about eight, I started taking piano lessons and did pretty well (for an eight-year-old). My mom taught me Mary Had a Little Lamb, and my grandfather taught me Chopsticks and Caldonia. When my parents divorced a couple years later and we moved to a new town, the piano lessons got shelved. Not to be deterred, I kept playing. In fact, all through high school and college, I would often play for 15-20 minutes a day just as stress relief. There was nothing more satisfying than knowing if I sat down and placed my fingers on the right keys in the correct order, beautiful music would somehow ascend out of the back of that wooden box.

I always told myself that my first piece of furniture when I had a house of my own would be a piano. It was a little deal I had made with myself. But then when my actual house materialized a sofa and chair seemed like a more practical investment. Then a dining room table, then a bed. You get the picture. So here we are eight years later and still no piano. My mom has graciously offered us her piano because she never plays it anymore, but until we get a covered trailer and a burly man or two to help with the move, it’s stuck at her house.

So when Jenny (see lovely sister-in-law reference above) agreed to let us house her piano until she has a suitable location for it, I was thrilled. I was convinced that my stress level would drop by about 43 percent just by having regular access to the piano. But with it in the closet, I often forget it’s there for days at a time.

The kids have recently discovered it. Our son likes to hit the little button that makes a drumbeat, and then dance to it. I tried teaching him Mary Had a Little Lamb the other day, and he was sort of catching on to the fact that certain keys make certain sounds. I hope our children learn to love music the way I did – and at an early age. But I may have to pull the piano out of the closet first.