Strings

In my living room stands an upright piano which belonged to my great grandparents. Over the years it has slowly worked its way down the country. It once stood near Blackburn in Herbert and Clara’s house, then in my great Aunt Elsie’s house in Colchester, then in the house I grew up in. When I left home and my mum moved house, it followed me to all of the houses I lived in- right up to today where it stands a little shabby and out of tune on the south coast of England. 

My great grandparents bought it for their two daughters. My sisters and I all learned to play, and my eldest sister never stopped learning and still plays beautifully.

At some time in its history, some strings were removed from the keys at the upper end of the keyboard, presumably to replace broken strings elsewhere. When you hit the keys without a string all you get is an unsatisfying and unexpected lack of return pressure and a hollow sound with no note. It’s sounds a bit sad.

Two evenings ago I was sitting on the sofa, in that too-tired-to-move-but-must-go-to-bed state and thinking about the low spirit I’ve been in for a couple of weeks and considering how this compares with other, similar moods that swoosh in and out of my life with no warning or discernible cause on a semi-regular basis.

Intervals where all motivation leaves me, but I know that I have been able to summon it just yesterday or last week. Where food, which I know tastes delicious, tastes of nothing at all. Where the ‘spark’ of life- the fizzing happiness, the determination to walk, work and power-on through my day, the desire to be with other humans, has evaporated. All the time knowing and remembering how those things felt but not being able to feel them.

I’ve been in that place enough times to know that it will pass, although each time I can’t imagine how.  In brighter moments, minutes, hours I try it out-  hit the high keys. I am disappointed by the lack of return pressure and the absence of tone.

I want to be able to sound out a beautiful high A, and know I will again, but for now there’s only a hollow thud.