It’s been a while since I last played the piano.
I played it when my mother died.
I played it when my father died.
I played it when my wife died.
And all my brothers and sisters,
When my son died, I didn’t play it.
I sat down at the piano, opened the lid, stretched my fingers…
And then closed the lid.
I stood up, went to the wet bar, and made myself a drink.
I’ve been sitting out here on the back porch, watching the ripples on the lake.
Listening to the rain and thunder, and remembering his voice.