My piano chair

My piano chair

It seems as if everyone, or at least everyone my age, has that chair in their bedroom that clothes and other odds and ends get piled up on.

For me, it’s not a chair but a piano that is covered in my laundry that has yet to be put away, magazines I have yet to look at, and who knows what else.

Usually, I like to keep my room clean, but I’ve given myself a little slack because of how busy I’ve been, and I know that I will eventually get around to cleaning it.

To be honest, that pile of clothes on the piano bugs me. I prefer living and working in an organized and clean space, but I have accepted that I won’t touch the pile until after I cross off a few other projects on my list like homework, learning my music for a competition next week, and even this column.

It’s for sentimental reasons that the piano covered with clothes really bothers me, though.

I can remember deciding in middle school that I wanted a piano. “Start saving,” my dad said. We decided that a digital piano would be most conducive to my needs. It sounded like an acoustic piano, but we could easily transport it to my my gigs. My dad took me to Robert M. Sides and we picked the best one. I was so proud to have a “real” instrument in my room— one that I bought all by myself — not the old, plastic keyboard with stickers on the keys and missing lights.

When I had sleepovers, my friends would sit down on the piano seat and play Heart and Soul, or sometimes we would look up chords to a popular song and all sing along. Now, when practicing for regional chorus, I slide the pile of clothes out of the way to check my pitch. And every once in a while I sit down to make sure I still have “Fur Elise” under my belt, or at least most of it.

Looking at my piano sometimes makes me sad lately because I know I will not be able to take it with me to college. It’s not like my guitar that I can just lean up against the end of my bed; it needs a real home.

So unlike my Justin Bieber poster and my old baseball trophies, I will be back for my piano; and it will have a special place in my first home, one where it doesn’t get covered in laundry.