Death of a Piano

Death of a Piano By Dane Smith-Johnsen I stood tiptoed and stretched tiny arms. Little fingers danced upon the keys. The soft-spoken nurse protected me. I was safe and free from harm. Balanced there in a full body cast. The nurse, at my side where was mother? First one note followed by another I played slow sweet tones, alas. There, in the biggest piano room. As one by one I struck different sounds. I smiled. The nurse happily had found. Something had chased away gloom. Grandmother visited on Sunday. She was told about piano fun. Gleeful, at last my cheering was won. “I’ll buy you one,” she did say. Ten or twelve months old, smiling inside. Black piano, black and ivory keys- I could hardly wait and was oh, so pleased. Her promise in my mind did abide. Visiting day had arrived at last. Here’s the piano I brought for you. Dumfounded, not knowing what to do. I tore that tiny toy up and fast! I heard all about my destroying. Death of the piano came that day. Promise. Piano. What could I say? Expectation not met. Annoying. Anger and disappointment, not spoiled, That hospital crib became my home. Sunday visits then left alone. Frustrated my anger over boiled. Written for Danielle White’s Earliest Memory Contest. (This is but one of many early memories.)