Recently I was trying to come up with some way to change the piano to make it more appealing to me. I suggested to the kids that maybe we should paint it. They responded as people who spent their formative years running around antique stores for fun would: they were horrified at the thought.
Over the past few days I've spent some time with our piano. I polished every inch of it. I scrubbed its keys. I replaced the torn fabric on the stool. As I worked I looked past its dings and dents and stains and thought about hands building, tuning, playing, polishing. And I think I found a way to love our piano.





