When I was just five years old, my grandmother—already 73—opened her heart and home to raise my two younger brothers and me. I was the oldest, the only girl, and I didn’t know then just how much love she would pour into our lives.
One Sunday after church, we went out for lunch, and she turned to me with a simple question that changed my life:
“If I buy you a piano, will you take lessons and practice?”
My heart leapt. I said yes without hesitation.
When that piano arrived, it felt like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. I couldn’t wait to begin. From that day on, it became more than an instrument—it became my companion, my comfort, my joy.
I learned to read music and play by ear. As I grew, I shared that gift—playing at nursing homes, church services, weddings. Whether I was celebrating or crying, the piano was there for me. I had no idea my grandmother quietly listened, watching me find peace in the keys.
Years later, I married into the military life. We moved often—sometimes overseas—and that piano came with us every time. Through all the changes, it remained a constant.
Now retired, it still sits proudly in my home. I still play almost every day, and each note brings me back to that little girl and the grandmother who believed in her.
She lived to be 96, and her photo sits framed on top of that same piano—the one she gifted me all those years ago.
It’s not just wood and strings.
It’s a symbol of love, of sacrifice, of legacy.
And I am so, so blessed. 🎹❤️
