I remember coming home and finding my house ransacked.
I didn’t mind that my money was stolen, that the some intruder had violated my place.
What I couldn’t and still can’t stomach is the wanton destruction of my keyboard.
I looked at it on the floor, knowing it was irreparable and asking myself why?
Of all the things of value in my place, this small musical instrument held for me more worth than anything else.
I love to play, to sing, to entertain friends.
A simple pleasure destroyed.
Music is my life, my great love.
I still ask why?