The Lonely Piano
When my daughters were in elementary school, we would regularly drive from Wakefield to Arlington passing through Winchester. Along the way was a playground which consisted of one old swing set, one extra-tall slide, and some dandelion-filled grass. We called it "the lonely playground." Whenever we drove by, not a single human was there. Ever. We would wave to it and say, "Hi, lonely playground. Hope someone plays with you tomorrow!"
I thought of the lonely playground this morning when I snapped this photo.
In the building where I make my home there lives a piano in the common room of the basement. Everyday I walk by, the piano bench sits empty, the keys untouched. I often plunk out a few notes or chords as I pass by - it's hard to resist.
Up until a few weeks ago, there was a sign on it saying, "Please don't play the piano. It makes too much noise," or some such thing. It wasn't always this way. When I first moved into the building, I'd come into the lobby and often hear piano music coming from below - usually someone practicing or maybe composing music. Nice.
The sign is no longer on the piano, but I don't know - maybe it just fell off.
Dear lonely piano of the basement...
I hope someday you wear a sign that reads, "Please play me!"