Sterling Strings

Just a girl and her guitar.

        A couple of days ago,  while I was searching for some things to pack away  for college,  I came across something that looked like a family heirloom, nested  inside  a worn out black case crafted  out of canvas. I pulled open the rusted, leather tasseled zipper, only to reveal a dusted, heavy weight cedar wood guitar. The strap that was attached to it had holes in it, sign it was probably either very well loved or eaten by moths. That thing probably hadn't seen the sunlight for almost a decade, if not longer.  I climbed down  the flight of stairs, then headed for the living room, to inspect it closely.

       After removing the layer of dust off the guitar, by giving the instrument a once-over , my eyes finally met the sight of what must have been a centenarian guitar.  It was probably passed down from generation to generation. Ironic how, a family treasure I had never even heard of, ended up in my hands, by accident.   Intrigued by the intricate object, I decide to phone my father and ask him about its history.  Apparently, my great grandmother bought the piece at an antique fair. But it was no use to her as she decided to gift it to my father who was 5 years old at that time.

      I cross the strap over my body and hug the guitar tightly.  My right  hand glides smoothly  in appreciation along the polished neck of the instrument, while the other caresses the swirls carved on the face of the guitar.   Suddenly, I recall my dad's tale about how he took up guitar lessons at our local theatre, where he met my mum 30 years ago.  I instantly grow fonder of the object, because it brought my parents together.  Even more determined,  I twist the  ebony  coloured pegs, one at a time,  in a sluggish attempt to tune the guitar.

    My fingers start to pinch the rough-textured strings and I marvel in awe at the melodious sound that follows. As the sound echoes in my head, I can see my dad, being 12 again, fooling around with the guitar, trying to impress the girl he liked. That image brings a smile to my face.   

    I play around with a couple of chords for hours on end. I slowly put the "magical" instrument back in its place and take it back upstairs. Maybe my parents won't be needing this after all.

Reviews

[angeleapaugh]

This reminds me of a heart necklace i found that my dad had given my mother when they were courting. Thank you. Very nice read.