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Gracing our living room for the last 12 years has been a piano we were storing for our friend Lisa, who left to pursue her music career in NYC. It's a little spinnet, one dead key, which we dutifully get tuned each year - but nothing fancy.

Last week Bob got a call from Lisa's brother - still in town - who was hoping the piano could grace his art gallery, now that he and his daughter are taking lessons. Last night we told L that the piano was going away, and initially she was a bit sad but seemed to take the news okay. A few minutes later, I heard sobbing from the pillow fort. She crumpled into my arms, tearfully lamenting it's her piano - it's always been here, where it belongs - and it's just not FAIR. She huddled underneath the keyboard, wrapped her arms around a leg, and cried her little heart out at the injustice of loss. It took her about an hour to calm down, but she was quiet and thoughtful all evening. At one point her tears were so pitiful Bob considered calling the guy and offering him money for us to keep the piano. I counselled against that, primarily because there will be plenty of losses in her future that we can't control or even mitigate, and that she was working through her process and it was best to wait and see.

This morning, thanks to Daylight Savings Time, the kids were up and ready for school in plenty o' time. So L had the time for a farewell concert. She managed to make "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" sound like a funeral dirge, complete with broken-hearted expression. She seemed to be more at peace with the idea we'd eventually get another piano.

At the appointed time, Lisa's brothers arrived with dolly and trailer in tow. I moved furniture out of the way, to ease the passage. I called Bob home from work to come help. And in between phone calls, I noticed some urgent conferencing going on between the brothers. Apparently, the piano was more careworn than he realized, and it wouldn't match the aesthetic of the art gallery. And would we mind keeping it?

No problem whatsoever.

Picking up the kids from school, I didn't mention anything. When L walked in to the dining room, I pointed to the piano - as she turned toward the spot, I could see her ready herself for the blow of disappointment. But there it was!

Being my daughter and full of faith in her abilities, she immediately took credit for the piano's reprieve - saying she prayed that she could keep it! I'll deal with that thorny theological issue later...

I explained to her that Lisa's brothers did come by, but it wasn't quite what they were hoping for, being a tad worn and well-loved. Much like L's all-time favorite buddy, Bear-Bear. And that to us it was a fine piano that sounds good and adds to the richness of our lives, even if it wasn't perfect. Almost having lost it, it is now all the more precious.

Time for some joyful noise.