The Old Piano

My grandfather's piano sat in my parents' basement for almost twenty years after he passed. Nobody played it. It was out of tune and covered with boxes.

This year, I finally had it moved to my apartment and tuned. The tuner said it was a beautiful instrument that just needed some love.

I hadn't played since I was twelve, when I quit lessons because I wanted to play baseball instead. I started again with simple songs, my fingers slow and clumsy. But every evening I sit down for half an hour, and slowly the music is coming back.

Last week, I played the song my grandfather used to play for us every Christmas. I didn't play it perfectly. But my mom was visiting, and she sat on the couch with her eyes closed, smiling.

"He'd be so happy," she said.

Some gifts wait patiently for us. That piano waited twenty years. I'm glad I finally opened it.