Mom's code for, "Can't talk now, the kids are in the room." I was raised by a blind mother. Wait, reverse that, I was raised by a mother ... who was blind. She taught me to look at life through the eyes of faith.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
It's time for the piano to go to a new home. We are downsizing. Truth be told I didn't have room for it in this apartment but I definately won't have room in the new place. It's hard to let go of something that has been part of your life all your life. Mom composed music for some of her over 20 songs. She and Dad were jailbirds--that's what Paul and I called them. Once a month they went with the jail team from The Christian & Missionary Alliance Church to the local jail. If I dig deep in my memory file I can see Mom sitting at the piano with Dad standing over her left shoulder as they practiced. I usually sat in the orange chair sideways reading a book. I got rid of that chair when she passed cuz it just wasn't comfortable anymore. I balled my eyes out a year later when I say the salvage company that took it on TV. I hope I handle this better. The piano is going to a good Christian home and I find peace in that. Grandpa McKinney told me once that I still had my memories even though the church building I grew up in was being sold. It was a nice sentiment but memories do fade. While I can still see my parents in my mind, I can't hear them singing anymore. Daddy's voice faded a long time ago and Mom's recently began to.
But the only other option was to keep the piano and get rid of the couch. Standing's good for you, right? I guess I made the right decision for my family and I've taken some lovely photos.
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