MY (VERY) TRIED AND TRUE FRIEND KIMBALL
Yesterday I said goodbye
in private chilly wake
empty chairs attending
my lonely little ache.
For over fifty years
in rages and in joys
my ten, its eighty-eight
conspired to make noise.
not like other things
it lifted up my spirit
and gave my fingers wings.
You cannot understand
unless you’ve parted too
with a beautiful piano
that grew old along with you.
March 19, 2018 at 11:11 am
I do not have even a note of musical talent. But, I can appreciate the loss because if I had to give up my sewing machine, I’d feel the same. Here’s to lots of recorded music for you. 🙂
March 19, 2018 at 12:14 pm
Yes, absolutely! Your sewing machine would be exactly what my piano has been. You and it come together in the same way, and what a part of life that interplay becomes! It would be interesting to know how many things there are in people’s lives that are like my piano and your sewing machine. Knitting needles? Sketchbooks? Gardeners’ tools? Chisels? They can be so much more than mere things. Thank you for pointing that out! (And I hope you and your sewing machine will never part ways!)
March 19, 2018 at 1:18 pm
I think you gave me an idea for a post. 🙂
March 19, 2018 at 1:41 pm
Excellent! You started me thinking, too. It isn’t just that THING. It’s the creating that happens, whether (in my case) noise, or (in your case) quilts. Something is there that wasn’t there before, and it’s because of that relationship between person and thing. It’s quite wonderful. That very same thing might not have any particular meaning to someone else. I could have a hundred sewing machines, and there would be absolutely no love between us. They’d all want to go live with you. Maybe your readers will chime in with those kinds of things in their lives. This will be most interesting — I can’t wait to see what you come up with!
March 19, 2018 at 4:52 pm
You had me worried there… not that the piano is not a loss, but I’m hoping you chose not to keep it.
I always think of blogging as making something out of nothing.
March 19, 2018 at 5:32 pm
Downsizing is partly a choice and partly a command from Life. When I resigned myself to downsizing, I chose the possibility of losing the piano. There are other ways to make music (I’m a fiend with comb and Kleenex), but one’s long-time instrument is something very personal. If it’s the piano for me and the sewing machine for Judy, what would it be for you? The camera? This matter of the thing that’s more than a thing is really very ponderable. I’m eager to see how Judy deals with it and what feedback she might get on her blog.
March 19, 2018 at 6:08 pm
I’m sorry Life commanded you to let it go if you would have liked to keep it.
I try not to get attached to things since losing a stone heart and breaking a shell.
But of course we do – there are things I’d hate to lose, but generally not things I’m invested in.
Those things tend to be little. Each hot water bottle is a sorry loss, but the odd one has been used to destruction which is unwise.
I’m attached to my little house as much as anything.
March 19, 2018 at 6:13 pm
Does my book collection count? That’s pretty personal.
March 19, 2018 at 6:28 pm
That’s about as personal as it gets! The loss of a valued old book is huge.
March 19, 2018 at 6:24 pm
I understand being attached to a little house! And I also understand the wisdom in not getting too attached to things, but that can be easier said than done. Sometimes an attachment to a stone heart or a shell just happens. We can’t help it. It’s very real.
Thanks for your sympathy on the loss of the piano. It would have been Plan A to keep it, but, as we all know, we don’t always get our Plan A and so we must devise a Plan B.