For the past 35 years, my mother and I have had two pianos in storage in Vermont. One was the piano I grew up with and learned to play (a bit) on as a child. The other – the more valuable one, with genuine ivory keys, inherited from her own mother – was the piano my mother grew up with and likewise learned to play on (with much greater ability) as a child.
In all these years, we’ve never had a place large enough to hold them, though we always hoped to eventually.
This week we were notified that the facility where they were stored burned down last month, and both pianos were destroyed.