That big black piano looks dusty in the living room. A week has gone by and I haven't even cleaned it up.
I don't even want to touch it.
That piano used to be very well looked-after, down to the edge of the string and keyboard. Black and shiny on the surface, looking elegant.
To you, it was more than just a musical instrument. It was your partner-in-crime, whether in composing or performing on stage. Its clinking sound had always been perfect to go along with your beautiful singing voice.
I understood and shouldn't be jealous. Silly, it was just a piano. Besides, this was how you made a living - especially for me and the kids.
Did you have any idea just how proud the kids and I had always been with you? Once they told their friends at school:
"One of our dads sings and plays piano. He's on stage and on TV."
I remember that worried look on your handsome face. (Your ageless, handsome face - no matter how old you'd get.) You never wanted us to be the media target. Spare the kids. Let us be the only who know this love. Not all could and would understand. A lot would simply judge.
Let this love be our business for always. I understood. Your over two-decade-old career was still at stake. It didn't matter that you had the talent and charming personality. Moral issues were always there. Well, even when this was supposed to be between us alone.
A lot of things I could get and also cherish. Your seemingly nonstop work schedule. I was the one who mostly did the house chores and took care of the kids.
But when you returned home, you really did come home. Your cellphone was mostly off. You really spent your time with me and our kids. I was so happy.
