I reached home on Tuesday night to find them moving the piano out. Someone we know is taking it, but I still felt like crying. Sometimes I think I'm too sentimental for my own good.

Whenever everyone comes to our place, they ask us who plays the piano. The truth is - no one in the family plays the piano. My mother's father was a musician, and that was his piano. When my mother's parents used to stay with us that piano came with them. And then grandpa bought an organ even. When they moved away they left the piano with us because it wouldn't fit in their new flat.

As a child my grandpa tried to teach me to play the piano, but then he had to stop because he got too ill and weak to continue. Then later my uncle, my mom's brother, tried to teach me as well, but he got too busy. We couldn't afford piano lessons because my parnets weren't earning much, and with four kids in the family money was always tight. Besides, my grandpa and my uncles were qualified musicians, for a while everyone didn't see why we should send me somewhere else to learn it.

I can play music by ear - meaning I can hear a melody and reproduce it on an instrument. My piano lessons basically stopped at the Lesson One level, if there's such a thing. Running my fingers through CDEFG... and back again, for each hand. But I discovered that I can reproduce a tone when I hear it. And I was in a small keyboard band in primary school, and my teacher told me I could sight-read. I didn't know what it meant, but my friends who play the piano told me told me that it's a good thing.

I sometimes wonder where I would be with formal training. I also wonder if it's too late. I know I have music in my blood somehow. My siblings all play musical instruments with their school bands, and then continue performing with amateur musical groups.

I need to learn to let go. I need to let go, grow up and move on. That's what my head says.