I was appalled when I heard that Texas A&M students regularly threw old pianos on bonfires at their parties. What sacrilege.

I would sit in my cozy living room and play my keyboard with the doors wide open while it rained and the sheeting sweep of rain would fill my house with magic. I would play deep into the night. I would play and my soul would grow calm.

One day my door was kicked in and my keyboard was taken.

I moved on, traveling lightly. When I did get another musical instrument, it was a cheap guitar, and later a fiddle.

"You should get a piano." said my land lady.

"No. I can't have a piano, they're too big, I wouldn't be able to bring it with me when I leave." I said.

"We could have a house piano, it could stay here." she said.

"Can I have it in the garage so I can play it. I don't want to play when people are around." I said.

"I'd love it if you played while I was here." said Anne.

"I would like to have it in the garage so I could open the garage doors and play in the rain. I love to play in the rain." I smiled dreamily as I spoke of this. I forgot about this conversation, but my landlady found a piano online and pushed me to bring it to the house. I did, very reluctantly. I was happy to have it.

Anne left a trail of passive-aggressive sabotage, so when several of the most important keys on the piano suddenly decided not to work anymore, it falls in line with me having to air up my tires every time I drove my car.

I moved on. I took what was mine, but I couldn't take the piano. I got a message saying that I need to get it out of the house before I got my deposit back.

I can't have a piano. Even if I could, it's spoiled. I become angry when I look at it.

"Ting...BONG.....bing......tink....BONG" popped the strings in the bonfire. I felt all the bitterness and anger melt away as I drank beer and watched the piano burn.