Fatale Abstraction

It's been sitting for absolute ages, neglected for weeks at a time, so I asked my sister today if she would like my piano for my niece and nephew to begin lessons. She was ecstatic, as was my 7 year old niece, so just like that it is finished. Even though I barely used it, as long as it sat here I could think of it as potential energy stored in a battery, all coiled up and ready to spring alive with vibrant tone, but to let it go spells the end of my favorite chapter of my own unremarkable story. A kindly neighbor helped husband move the piano into the truck for transport, and we leave in mere moments. Letting the piano go is me saying firmly that the dream I labored over so many hours and years of my life--aspirations of an opera career--is utterly finished. I can barely breathe. I can't see evidence of the metal bands that have strapped around my rib cage, but I can feel them forcing the breath and water up out of my mouth and eyes. This is the feeling of my heart breaking.