There is a compelling reason for writing this particular post. It is not about travel, but it is about being challenged to stay true to my belief that material things no longer matter in my life – I am not defined by the things I own. At the moment my integrity is being tested.

I just learned that the person who kindly stores my grand piano, and has done so for the past 13 years, is moving and can no longer love it for me. So here I am face to face with letting go of something material that has brought immeasurable joy into my life. Why does my heart crumple at the thought of selling something I haven’t even played for thirteen years?!

It crumples because it isn’t just the piano – it’s the memory of that expansive ephemeral sound floating in the air after the last note has been played, its the thrill of accomplishment when finally mastering a complicated few bars, it’s the way I would find myself at the piano playing when feeling lost and needing something to hang on to. It’s remembering both my kids perched on the bench learning to play when their feet barely touched the pedals and their hands had no hope of reaching an octave. It’s because my mother’s heart and soul lives in this beautiful instrument that I inherited from her. But most vivid is the soft sweet memory of playing my kids to sleep when they were tiny wee babies with their whole lives stretched out before them.

I have concluded that these memories, which the selling cannot erase, will be enough to sustain me when it’s gone. I have posted my piano for sale. I am comforted by the idea that selling it allows someone else the opportunity to experience the joy of owning a beautiful instrument that will shape their life in untold ways. I hang on to the hope that they will grow to love it as passionately as I do.