Monday, August 10, 2009

The Guitar With A Lesson


by Carly


I was seven when I got my first guitar. My father brought me into the store and I walked down row after row of guitars and other instruments. I ran my hands over each one I liked, seeing if the strings played just the sound I wanted or if the material felt just right under my hands. I was about to give up when I saw it. The guitar was red with an orangey yellow center. It had golden keys and a black neck with long silver nylon strings. It was a Gibson and it was electric. My hands went over the material that was smooth under my all knowing hands. This was so perfect; as long as it sounded right then it would be my soul mate. I plucked each string one at a time in complete awe. The perfect notes came out crisp and clear, ringing throughout the room. I gasped. It was perfect, amazing, everything I had always dreamed of. And it was all mine. I couldn’t help but stare at it and I waited in awe for a moment.

“Dad, come here!” I called.

“Find something Andrea?” he asked me with a relieved smile.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, showing him the Gibson.

He looked at the guitar then at me.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

I nodded and picked up the guitar, it was very lightweight. He carried it to the counter and put it up.

“I want to pay, daddy.” I said, taking the credit card out of his hand.

He smiled at me as I handed the credit card to the lady. She put my beautiful Gibson guitar in a black case with red velvet on the inside. Daddy also got me an amp and told me it was an early birthday present. I went straight home and hugged my mom who was extremely pregnant.

“Hi momma!” I shouted, showing her the case of my new guitar.

We all sat down and they put the guitar in my arms. I didn’t have it plugged in, but I started playing anyway. My mother and father sat listening to my playing, it was as if nothing else in the world was going on. I smiled to myself. The music flowed from within me and my fingers flew across the frets. I began humming along to the song, tapping my foot to keep the beat. I loved music, but playing it on my own was freeing. I let each chord echo throughout the silent home. I let my soul flow into the music and something inside me boiled up into my throat and finally escaped my mouth. I was singing!

I’ve never felt this way,
How do they expect me to say,
How I feel about you
I don’t know if these feelings are true
Let me know if I can be heard In this endless silence

My parents clapped for me as I stopped singing and started to play in silence. I stared off into the space of the kitchen. I brought the song to a slow close and let the last note fade into the air. As my fingers lingered on the frets and the note faded into silence, I thought about how lucky I was to live a life such as mine.


*Thank You Carly for your always creative inputs. Your wonderful mind keeps Sequel Group going together with Rocio and the others active in our GR group!

Keep it up!

-SiNgUrL

1 comments:

Lit and Life said...

Like this one a lot!

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