My favorite room in the mansion? The music room, of course. Where else could I have found you, a perfectly tuned 9-foot, 6-inch Bösendorfer Imperial? Sweet Jesus, you are possibly the most beautiful instrument ever made…sleek and supple, capable of producing nine sub-bass notes so I can play Bach, Ravel and my dark love, Debussy, as they were meant to be heard. You stood alone in that huge house, perfectly in tune, but lonely because no one but the Professor was there to play with you. I found you that first day. Sat down and ran my hand along your keyboard cover. It’s how I introduced myself. You didn’t bite or cringe. You seemed to sort of…you know, sigh. One of those soft, elegant purrs of contentment, a magnificent sleeping cat being rubbed just the right way. I felt brave enough to lift the cover and play the opening notes of “Pathetique”. From the first moment I set my fingers to your bones, you became “Fantasia”. I touched you and I was the Childlike Empress, young again, born again, through sheet music and memories. Don’t you worry, your Marie will always be here to sing with you. You said you wanted to know my favorite memory? At about three years old, Momma guided my hands for the first time along the smooth, cool keys of one of your sisters, her Model 130 upright. Her hair was falling around us like a soft cloud of blackberry satin, brushing against my shoulders. The smell of lavender and baby powder was drifting from her clothes, merging with the aroma of lemon furniture polish and the faint scent of fabric softener. The notes blended seamlessly as she hummed in tune, little droplets of singing water, sliding along the strands of a spider’s web. Soft and gentle, the melody comes back to me no matter how many years have passed. First sound the tonic of A major, then ascend softly to the mediant…oh, you are glorious, sugar. There are others that come a close second. Her face, the last thing I saw before I went to bed at night. Her lips, cool and soft against my forehead. Her hands, tucking the sheet and blanket around me. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart…” Rocking me when I skinned my knee. Kissing the “ouch” to make it better. Blowing gently on the cut after she applied the hydrogen peroxide. “My brave little girl…” Holding me tight through the nightmares. Brushing my hair from my face. Drying my tears with the soft cotton handkerchief she always carried. “It’s all right, baby. I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you…” Just a handful of memories from the time before, but they’re mine…maybe that’s what makes them so precious. And some days I can even forgive God, because he could never really take her from me. Not when I have you to help me remember. “And though you're still with me, I’ve been alone all along”

Copyrighted © 2003 Silver Thistle Publishing.