As I clear the room and corridor for the new piano arriving tomorrow, I can’t help but reflect on the pianos that have been part of my life. Each one carries its own story, its quirks, and a piece of my journey as a pianist.

My first piano was a gift from my grandmother, who, in her wisdom, bought it before anyone even checked if I had any talent for music. She was confident I did—her mother had been a piano teacher, so for her, it was a no-brainer. I wasn’t consulted, of course. At nearly six years old, I simply started lessons and loved them.

When it came time for my audition for music school, the panel suggested I try the violin, as I had a good ear and it “required the best hearing.” My mum, however, had other plans: “We have a piano at home, you’ve been learning it for a year, and I’m not listening to screechy violin practice for ages.” And just like that, the piano became my path.

That first piano, a Polish brand called Calisia, was bright brown with a warm, gentle sound. It turned out the soundboard was cracked, which explained its soft timbre. But that piano taught me discipline—and the challenge of adjusting from its quiet voice to the louder instruments at school. I learned to play lightly, though it wasn’t always easy.

When I moved homes and was accepted into the Music Academy, my mum decided it was time for an upgrade. With a friend’s help, I found the piano at a tuner’s shop. It was love at first note: a rich, resonant sound like a grand piano, locked inside a black, polished upright from early 20th-century Germany. That piano saw me through the most formative years of my training.

Years later, when I moved abroad, the beloved upright stayed with my mum. But without regular care, it fell into disrepair, and eventually, she gave it away. I still feel a pang of guilt about letting it go, but at the time, shipping it to Dublin, where I lived, wasn’t an option.

In Dublin, I turned to a digital piano: a Roland I bought from Walton’s. It was 2010, and though it was quite an investment, I knew it was the right choice. That piano eventually travelled with me in a tiny Opel Corsa, making its way from Dublin to Malta. The customs officer in France, baffled by what I was transporting, still makes me laugh to this day.

For seven years, the Roland was my trusty companion in Malta, but I missed the feel of a real piano. So, I invested in a Feurich upright, a purchase I made with my now-husband. It was a special moment and marked a new phase in my playing. That Feurich helped me grow tremendously as a pianist, and parting with it tomorrow feels bittersweet.

But now, it’s time for a new chapter—a dream I thought might never happen: a grand piano. Well, a baby grand, but still! After careful planning, I realised it was within reach. Tomorrow, it will arrive, opening a new door in my pianist’s life.

Every piano has been more than just an instrument to me—it’s been a companion, a teacher, and a witness to my growth. And now, as I prepare for this next stage, I’m filled with gratitude for all the pianos that have shaped my journey and excitement for what’s to come.

Here’s to new beginnings—and to making music that’s grander than ever.