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!



Lit and Life said...

Like this one a lot!

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