Under the Piano
I have a secret. I’ll tell only you, but only if you promise not to tell too many people- that way it stays private. If I need to escape or I can’t handle life anymore I have this wonderful place to go. It’s quiet but loud, sheltered and exciting. The music there is enchanting. I think it sets a spell.
I crawl into my space, and the carpet tickles when I stretch out on my back. I always have a book, but my favorite to bring is Jane Eyre. It’s melancholy and ethereal, and fits the mood of my favorite music; Chopin. I’m staring up at the bottom of my mother’s grand piano. My grandpa bought it so that there would be music in the house, and its the most beautiful thing we have.
My mother plays- her fingers dance on the ivory keys and notes sing out of the strings inside. While I lay underneath the piano the sound thrums through the bottom, and reverberates in my ears. It makes my little space an otherworldly sort of haven. It feels apart- separate. Her music weaves a spell and as long as I stay it keeps me safe and warm.
I tell my nieces and cousins that seem like they’ll understand- the ones that have that spark of magic and music in them. They lay under the piano with me and my mom plays, and plays, and plays, and the music weaves on.