I hear the piano being played as I put the vegetables in the oven to roast. It is rough and loud, it is my eldest. She likes to take the lid off the piano and hit the keys to watch the mechanisms move inside. After a few minutes, the piano is quiet. I put the chicken into the oven, wash and dry my hands and head up the stairs. The piano starts up again, only this time it is a soft, melodic sound.
When I get into the lounge room, I see my youngest bent over the keyboard, her eyes are closed, and as she plays each key she brings her ear as close as she can to her hands, listening intently to each sound. It is beautiful to watch. This is why I wanted a piano in the house.