I used to play an old clunker piano for children’s services. A small Steinway grand, the piano had been donated to the church by a professional musician. As a professional musician myself, it was obvious why the instrument had been given away. With tone like a wooden xylophone and a keyboard cover that spontaneously dropped on players’ hands, I fantasized about shoving it down the stairs and watching keys and hammers shatter to bits.
When the new piano came, the clunker was traded for parts. Piano movers came to take it to the glue factory, and sadness caught me by surprise. Grief is more complicated when loved ones have wobbly relationships.
This morning Vehicles for Change came to pick up the Monte Carlo. This car had been a burden. No one drove it, but we had to maintain insurance and registration. The brakes didn’t work, it wouldn’t start, and it had two years of crud on the exterior.
But really it was a good car. It had been well-cared-for. (back when my mother owned it that is.) A good tune up and it’s going to be fine transportation for someone.
I’ll try to remember that when I see the empty parking spot.