The Piano: An Unwieldy Arrival and a Lingering Dilemma
In the opening chapter of my current novel, the protagonist settles into a shared apartment, with the piano arriving as the final piece of furniture. The scene conjures a vivid memory from my own relocation to Hamburg two decades ago, when our beloved piano ascended the staircase as the grand finale of our move.
I averted my gaze as the movers hoisted the behemoth up the narrow steps. My mind raced with visions of a catastrophic slip, the piano plummeting down on the unfortunate individual at the bottom. To my immense relief, the disaster didn’t materialize. All parties survived, including the piano.
It has since found a permanent home in our living room, its ebony exterior adding an air of timeless elegance. However, my husband and I have come to a sobering realization: aesthetic merit alone cannot justify its continued presence.
Beyond its visual allure, the piano has become a source of growing dissatisfaction. Its imposing size consumes valuable space, casting a shadow over our once-airy living area. The once-pristine keys now bear the telltale signs of neglect, their ivory sheen dulled by the passage of time.
The weight of this mammoth instrument extends beyond its physical presence. Its very existence exerts an unspoken pressure on our daily lives. The mere sight of it evokes a sense of obligation, reminding us of the countless hours we once spent tickling its keys.
Piano lessons, once a source of joy and fulfillment, have long since receded into distant memory. Now, the mere thought of resurrecting our musical aspirations evokes a mix of trepidation and regret. The piano has become a silent symbol of dreams deferred, a haunting reminder of unfulfilled potential.
Complicating matters further is its sentimental value. It belonged to my grandmother, a talented pianist who instilled in me a deep love for music. Parting with the piano feels akin to severing a tangible link to my past, a betrayal of her legacy.
Yet, pragmatism dictates that we confront the reality of our situation. The piano serves no practical purpose in our lives. Its presence has become more of a burden than an asset.
As we grapple with this dilemma, conflicting emotions churn within us. Sentimentality wars with practicality, nostalgia with a desire for a more functional and clutter-free living space.
The ultimate decision weighs heavily upon us. Shall we banish the piano to a dusty attic, where it will gather cobwebs and fade into oblivion? Or can we find a way to honor its sentimental value while simultaneously freeing ourselves from its cumbersome presence?
For now, the piano remains an enigmatic figure in our home, a constant reminder of the past and a catalyst for ongoing contemplation. Its future remains uncertain, a question mark that hangs in the air, awaiting resolution.
