When I was 14, my mom died of cancer. The only thing I asked to keep was her piano \u2014 a beautiful, antique Steinway that she played every Sunday, even in her final weeks. My dad promised it was mine, and it stayed in our living room as a reminder of her. Then came Tracy \u2014 my chipper, peppermint-scented stepmom \u2014 and her daughter, Madison. Slowly, Tracy erased every trace of my mom. Photos, scarves, cookbooks \u2014 gone.<\/p>\n
But the piano stayed. Until one spring break, I came home from college and found it missing. Tracy smiled and said, \u201cI had it hauled away. It was falling apart.\u201d I was crushed. My dad was out of town, and Tracy brushed me off like I was being dramatic. But when Dad came back and saw the empty spot, his face went pale.<\/p>\n
I hid your birthday gift inside that piano,\u201d he said to Tracy. \u201cA $3,000 Cartier necklace. It was taped under the panel.\u201d Tracy panicked. She tried to get it back, but it was too late \u2014 the piano was already gone, sold to a buyer out of state. That night, they fought. Dad said words I\u2019ll never forget: \u201cThat piano was hers. And so was my trust \u2014 which you just threw away.\u201d By morning, Tracy had left.<\/p>\n
A week later, Dad filed for divorce. We never found the piano or the necklace. But something changed between Dad and me \u2014 he started showing up again. Making pancakes on Sundays. Listening. One day, he led me to the garage, where a secondhand piano sat under a tarp. Not as grand, a little scuffed \u2014 but still beautiful. \u201cIt\u2019s not hers,\u201d he said. \u201cBut it\u2019s yours now.\u201d I sat down and played. And for the first time in years, it felt like home again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When I was 14, my mom died of cancer. The only thing I asked to keep was her piano \u2014 a beautiful, antique Steinway that she played every Sunday, even in her final weeks. My dad promised it was mine, and it stayed in our living room as a reminder of her. Then came Tracy […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2603,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2602","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2602","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2602"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2602\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2604,"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2602\/revisions\/2604"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2603"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2602"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2602"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/timeshow.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2602"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}