Feels more like home

Well, my house after eight years now feels complete. On Saturday, my piano arrived. It has always been my piano, regardless of the fact Mom owned it. That piano was the one I practiced on as a child, composed songs on as a kid, sang around with some of my friends, while Mom played song after song.

When I had bought my stage piano keyboard with her help about six years ago, Mom said that I probably would not want my piano. I just smiled.

Well, now I have my piano. Bert has been working on giving it a polish coat, bringing out the true outer beauty of the instrument.

I'm sure that Patrick, my piano is happy to finally be where he will be played more often. For years he sat up in Mom's upstairs apartment and rarely got played, except when I came home or when Mom had a notion to play. I plan on spending some quality time at my piano, playing songs. More importantly, playing the old songs Mom used to play