Before she passed on she left me to her second son - the one who had spent so many hours at her knee sharing the songs she loved so well. Early in the morning before he had to be on his way to school he would streach his hands around my neck and slowly coax out of the the familar songs that I had played so many times on her knee. It's no suprise - the songs that came out of me were most often pointed directly at him and they had been caught on his soul. The songs were as much the fabric of the womans family as the old comforter the woman slept under during her last days. And no family gathering was considered complete until I came out and shared music, laughter and songs with the family. I had become an heirloom and a treasure. An icon that identified the family and brought them together in the best and worst of times. I lived with the second son for many years.