The piano wall

It is finished.

18 months in the making (give or take), my husband has finished the piano wall; the crowning masterpiece of our baby grand deconstruction.

Why on earth would you deconstruct a baby grand piano, you ask? Well, because my mother was moving and it was old and fragile, unable make the move with her. Professional piano movers refused to move it, saying it would be better to take it apart and salvage the parts before they would risk it.

My mother grieved in her driveway, said goodbye to the antique mahogany piano that had brought her new life, and phoned us with a strange idea. We would dismantle it ourselves, and Matt would salvage it, redeem it, make it into something - several things, actually - beautiful again.

So we did.

With every bit of piano we unscrewed, lifted, separated and removed, our hearts broke a little bit. A man's hands built this. Maybe several men. It is thick with artistry, heavy with shape and form. We undid each shoulder, each ligament, each leg, until it literally lay in pieces in a wood shop downtown.

And then, very slowly, it came to life again.

Oh, and it is for sale. In case you need new life, too.