Looking at her made me smile. If only I could figure out how to handle her I could then play a tune. She sat for a while in my childhood closet, collecting dust, but gradually that guitar become more than just the guitar. She was my purpose for becoming more than I was, she was the reason I pushed forward with obstacles in my path. If I could overcome her learning curve I felt like I could achieve anything. She was beautiful in all her glory.
I eventually learned to play her, one chord at a time. Keeping it simple that way, was important, no need for complications. After learning three chords, I wrote my first simple tune. I was on top of the world back then. Through the years however, she changed, I changed. I would lose touch, and trade her away, only to return again with another one practically the same. Why I do not know, just going along with the different seasons of my life, perhaps.
I miss her.
I feel her starting to call on me again like some kind of whisper from the wind. Perhaps another return to a certain creative season where my energy can bloom. I wonder what she will look like this time. What color will she be? What story will she have to tell?
I can not wait to meet her once again. I welcome her return.
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