Wandering through my old childhood home I heard notes echoing down the hall. We had abandoned this place long ago and now, as an adult, I had come back. I remember leaving behind everything we couldn't fit into a backpack, the most noteworthy of which was my Grandmother's grand piano. Maybe if we'd been given more time we would have taken it, but we had to hurry.
I knew it probably still wasn't safe here, but I needed to see that piano again. I walked further down the hall and the sound grew louder. I could hear it was a sweet melody, but I still couldn't quite place it.
When I was little I would listen for hours as my Grandmother played. I had loved the beautiful sounds that that piano made. She had promised me when I was a child that she would teach me how to play someday. It was too late for that now though, someday would never come.
She had been ill for a while, and I'm sure the stress of leaving so quickly didn't help. Still, none of us expected her to go so soon. Her last words to me have been forever burned into my memory. "The piano" she had said, her voice weak and weary, "my dear, that piano is yours. Please, play it. I'm sorry I was never able to teach you." I didn't understand then, I told her she still had plenty of time to teach me how to play. She just smiled in response and asked me to let her rest. I didn't realize until the next morning, when I saw tears running down my Mothers face, that she meant eternal rest. I then knew she was gone and that it was too late.
Now I was back at my old home. I was unsure what to do, but it was my Grandmother's will and I needed to see that piano again. Reaching the end of the hall I could now tell that the music playing was my favorite sound. I let the music fill me and took a moment to remember what the room used to be like. It was a wide open space with bay windows that shined the sun onto the piano whenever my Grandmother played. Everthing had been put so away neatly. It had been the room I had spent most of my time in. I would lay on the rug, eyes closed, listening to my Grandmother play for hours.
Taking a deep breath I opened the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. The windows were shattered and glass covered the floor. Everything that had been put away so neatly before was now thrown across the room and the rug was in tatters. I was beyond upset.
Only one thing was left untouched, except for a thin layer of dust, the only thing that mattered anymore. The piano, no, 𝘮𝘺 piano. I sat at the bench and carefully lifted the cover. I couldn't tell if the song I was hearing was just in my head, or if it was my Grandmother's ghost, but I chose to believe the latter.
I carefully placed my hands on the keys and felt hands guide mine. I let the music flow out of me as I played song after song. Memories filled my head and for the first time since we left I felt happy again. I knew I would lose my life soon, but I didn’t matter. I could die happy now. My Grandmother had finally taught me how to play the piano.
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