Our beautiful house in Cubao, where I grew up, was finally sold. It will be turned into a paper factory. As long as I do not return to #47 16th Avenue, the same house shall remain as is in my memory. That is how I want it to be.
My father who is now enjoying his retirement (he teaches college part time) in the hustle and bustle free Palawan islands gave me the old piano my late mother loved so much. They make beautiful music together. She takes care of it like a soldier takes care of his rifle. I remember how upset she was over my piano teacher when she made scratches on the keyboard cover as a result of tapping her pen on it while trying hard to grind the lesson piece into my hard head. Normally, one would take my dad’s offer enthusiastically, but unlike the other valuable furnitures that were gone in 60 seconds, there were no takers for the piano. So my dad had to give it to me.
Since my mom passed away and my father re-married and retired in Palawan, the piano was never used again. It was stored in the maid’s room left to rot. I thought it belonged to the junk yard and not in my home. But this was no ordinary junk. This is a scrap book that contains the memory of my mom and the sound of her music.
From the looks of it, it will cost me a substantial amount to have it repaired back to its splendid glory. So I scrapped my planned purchase of a 32″ Sony LCD TV. One month later, as I returned home from office, a shiny black piece of furniture greeted me.
I know that one day soon, through the fingers of my wife and children, I will yet hear again my mom and her beautiful melody.
Cost of Repair: 30K Pesos
Sentimental Value: Priceless
