Celeste had the piano shipped from France, from her Parisian estate, the moment she found what she deemed to be ‘the perfect spot’ for it. Our new home filled up quickly with an assortment of furniture brought in from the four corners of the world and I gladly entrusted her with the task of decorating. Words being my vice, color schemes, furniture arrangement, and Feng Shui were all concepts lost on me. So long as I had a desk to sit at in a study, I would not be found complaining about anything else. Especially when an artist demanded a corner of a room filled a certain way.
I passed by the instrument several times a day without giving it much thought. At first, the polished grand was one of those fixtures which blends into the background, something we glance at without really seeing. I set papers on it when I found myself within its proximity and leaned on it while conversing with another, but none of these actions ascribed any real appreciation for the piano on my part. It never once complained about my apathy or neglect and sat in its perfect spot throughout the days which passed. I did not pay it any mind. Until the sheet music appeared out of nowhere one day.
A brisk stroll punctuated my movements through the room it slumbered in day after day. My head buried in a book, I finished reading one page and turned it to continue in my literary journey. As I did so, though, I caught sight of something light-colored contrasting against the dark wood. I paused my steps at once. Perking an eyebrow at the strange vision my eyes took in, I recognized the notes and symbols arranged on the page. Walking closer brought out the title of the piece. “Clair de Lune” by Claude Debussy. A memory swelled immediately from the recesses of my heart and I placed the book down while sliding onto the piano bench to take a closer look. Read the rest of this entry
