I am Darlene's piano. I left my store when Wayne bought me as a wedding present for his bride. I was thrilled when Darlene chose me and I happily headed for my first home. There really wasn't a lot of room for me because I had to share space with reconditioned cast off furniture in a very small room. But it was better than sharing a big room with all those other pianos. (How I gloated when I was the chosen one).

A month later I was elated to hear that we would be moving to a new modern home. My happiness was spoiled when I discovered that I was vulnerable to dents and scratches. When Wayne and Bob (the owner of the domicile) moved me into the house, Bob swung me around and smashed me into the corner of the room causing me to suffer a big dent below the keyboard. I felt really hurt to think they didn't take better care of me and felt sorry for Darlene when she cried. I felt sorrier for her when Wayne got mad at her for crying. I didn't realize that he would always show anger when he felt guilty. It was part of his nature and his way of coping.

Little did I know that the second move was to be the first of twenty three more to follow. Some moves were in the same town and some were to different states. I have lived in Wisconsin, Colorado, Arizona, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and am now in Arizona again. I am a veritable gypsy.

My first dent was not the end of the casualties I endured. Two years later a baby boy joined our household. He loved to sit on my bench and pretend he was playing. Unfortunately for me, he got so carried away he wet his diaper and spoiled the lovely blond finish on my bench.

I was really hurt when Wayne, who smoked those smelly white sticks, let one of them fall off of the ashtray onto my top and burned me. That hurt worse than the dent. I have a spot now where the burn occurred. Because I was no longer new I didn't have to listen to Darlene cry this time. She had learned that 'stuff happens'.

My last disaster happened when Darlene's granddaughter, Rachel, visited. She and her cousin thought it was great fun to hit the edge of my keys and chip them. Well, we all get older and have our share of accidents I guess.

At least life was never dull for me, what with all the things I saw and places I lived. I am happy that my long life provided much happiness for Darlene. I was her therapist because whenever things went wrong, Darlene would head for me, sit down and play melancholy music. I made her feel better. And when something wonderful happened, as it often did, Darlene would again head for me and play lilting music. That gave me so much joy that I tried my best to use a lovely tone. I didn't mind when Darlene was angry and pounded out loud smashing chords; as a therapist I knew she needed the release.

I have only had one owner and not many pianos can say that. I am so proud that Darlene kept me, a lowly upright, and didn't trade me in on a baby grand. I know she thought about it sometimes as I aged, but, happily, Darlene knew that sometimes old things are better than new ones. We share memories that a snooty baby grand could never have.

Now I am old, battered and my lovely tone is no more. Darlene and I have aged together and we both have our share of infirmities, but my hammers still work and Darlene can still enjoy me once in awhile. What more can a piano ask?