Niagara Falls, New York

home. /hōm/. noun - the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.story time:this piano started in this very house in the 1950’s when it was brand new. my grandmother wanted it. her daughters, my mom and aunt, would take lessons. my aunt quit but my mother continued to play until this very day and this piano stayed with her for every move. when I was a kid I wanted to play, too. as I got older she would always tell me “some day when you buy a house you can take it with you.” and part of me never believed it would happen because it was hers, how could I take it. I’ve had other pianos as I’ve moved around myself. rescued pianos, fostered pianos, heirlooms, electric pianos, orphaned ones too. I’ve painted them. I’ve given them to the streets of Niagara Falls. I’ve had them in my apartment where I’d write or cry or have too much wine and poorly cover songs because truth be told I’m not actually that good at playing anymore. I turned into “hey, you’re the piano girl” and I never minded at all.then I bought a house. my grandmother’s house, after she passed, specifically. and then mama gave me my piano “it’s home.” the piano I had I gave to a friend with a kid, eager to learn. I’ve always given other people’s pianos new homes, they never felt like my own. for for the first time since the first night sleeping here alone, without my grandmother, there’s a calm in these rooms. it finally feels familiar and mine and warm. it feels like home. my wonderful 1950’s Wurlitzer manufactured in De Kalb, Illinois. where my mom would play us Christmas songs as kids and we would record them in a cassette tape for my dad as a gift. where I’d learn my first scales with too-small hands and painful shyness. where my childhood best friend and I would learn duets. where my mom would play songs and we would quietly listen hoping she wouldn’t stop. where I’d practice for talent shows and recitals. where I’d learn songs and belt them at the top of my lungs in the summertime with the windows open when no one was home. my piano. it’s home. #wurlitzer #emotionalstorytelling #nfpianos #niagarafalls #home #wordswordswords