Give the Girl A Guitar

There she is, a naturally beautiful woman sitting comfortably on the couch; her infant sitting at her feet. No more than three months old, the child resting in his carrier, kicking and cooing, his penguin in his right hand.  She relaxed while her food digested, and watching her first born gnawing on his stuffed toy. What a motherly thing to do.  Her expression in her face show weariness and preoccupation… lost way in her thought. A sudden daze paints a clear coat across her face.

 

Amberlynn lost her mother when she was fourteen. She lived life wildly and insanely.   Keggers were always the best parties. She always stayed out with a random guy, on the street until the wee hours of the morning. She had a form of direction �" if it was the right one or not �" until her son came into her life. She graduated and became a massage therapist a year before his arrival.  She was approach her twenties. Her dream was to sing and she did. Her mother would play the guitar and Amberlynn followed her footsteps.

 

Today she sitting on the couch, still lost deep in her thoughts and so I am. I’m wondering what she is thinking, as I do a review of her life. Is she enjoying the absence of her boyfriend?  Every-now- and-then, her eyes wonder between the floor, her son and to the movie on the plasma T.V. and back again. She was suddenly startled out of her thoughts, by her son screamed for attention. Her attempt to hushing him was far from successful.   “Just give her a guitar. Just give it to her “  were my thoughts.  I know this woman can play well. She has a beautiful  voice.  I have admiration for thoes who boldness, and guts to sing in front of people. I can tell she keeps her mother beside her in the way she sings. The act is difficult to do, put it does take a lot of pride to accomplish.

 

Still fighting with her child to calm him down, she ended up trading him for a guitar and started to play a few cords �" then stared to sing:” I said please stop your crying because it’s driving me insane, please stop your crying because I can feel your pain…”

 

The room fell to silence; her son included who was sitting on his aunt’s lap. People in the house started to crowed around her, to watch and listen.   A few even started to sing along with her lyrics. At her young age, and as a motherly thing to do, she made everyone in the room happy,  hearing the beautiful sound of her voice. The emotion she felt as she wrote each and every word. The smile on her face and golden glow on her cheeks, gave us all, a sign that Amberlynn was even happy to sing. 

 

All you just have to do is to give the girl a guitar.

 

 

Reviews

[Angel's Lady]

All you just have to do is to give the girl a pen and some paper, apparently.
Good job. Great write.

[Robert A]

GREAT job Sandy! You really have a gift for writing...keep it up! I need SOMEONE to rival with when i become a famous writer...lol :-x

[The Beatnik]

fascinating little piece you got here. i'm a guitarist, so the title interested me. i'm very glad that i looked.

[An owl on the moon]

Such a deeply moving work, full of vivid detail, courage, and an underlying tone of music coming through a distant guitar. So beautiful!!!

Craig