It’s short, but it’s a start. Getting back to actually writing a story a week, I’m posting this week’s story. I hope that you enjoy it.
Anne’s fingers tentatively caressed the ivory-encased keys. The soft notes lingered briefly in the air. The wind chimes outside the open window sang in the spring breeze as if they were accompanying the piano. The black lacquered finish of the baby grand glinted in the sunlight that poured into the room. Anne had not been able to bring herself to play it these past months, but she had still polished it twice weekly.
Bringing her other hand to rest lightly on the keys, she began to play. Softly, quietly at first. No sheet music was before her, but she didn’t need any. To this day she could play from memory every song she had played at a recital. Gram had always insisted on that.
The music continued, played almost without any conscious thought on Anne’s part. Hearing it all was like listening to the soundtrack of her own life. These were the songs that she had grown up with. She remembered with crystal clarity why she had chosen to play each of them. They were a reflection of who she was and where she was at in her life at the time that she had learned them so thoroughly. From a crescendo of ecstasy, to minor notes of despair, she poured it all out on the old piano keys.
As the final note vibrated and faded away, a single tear splashed onto the gently yellowed ivory. This had been Gram’s piano. Anne had learned to play sitting on this very bench, just as her mother had. This piano had been there when at the age of eight, she had lost her mom. Gram had held her close, then sat down at the piano to play the song that had always been a favorite of Anne’s mother. The notes had been familiar, bringing both sorrow and comfort to the little girl. Here Anne sat, twenty years later, grieving the loss of her grandmother. Playing was painful, and the ache in her heart was almost unbearable, but once again, the music brought her comfort, and a measure of peace. Who was it that said “God gave us music so that we could pray without words”?
And so, Anne stayed at the piano. Even though the words would not come, she poured out her heart in prayer.