A Dusty 6-String

I brought my guitar home from Seattle, thinking that I would have plenty of time to sit down, play it, and maybe write a few songs. 

I didn’t take it out of its case until today, which means it sat in my room for three weeks before I bothered to play it.  I don’t understand why I allowed that to happen, since playing music is one of the most important balances in my life.  I constantly listen to music, but a huge part of me loves creating my own. 

If I’m having a bad day, I can sit down on the piano and be calm within minutes.  If I need to release pent up emotions I can write a fitting song on the guitar. 

I fully understand the importance of music therapy. 

When I first pulled my guitar out, I brushed it off (a sign I hadn’t played it in far too long), and I sat upon my bed and ran my fingers across the strings.

Only to be greeted by the horrible noise of 6 strings playing all of the wrong notes. 

I quickly tuned it, then played Blackbird by the Beatles, one of my favorite songs. 

I let out a breath.  I missed this so much, why didn’t I bother to pick it up earlier? 

Why.

I let my fingers take control, and before I knew it I had made up half a song.  None of it was written down of course, but it had been waiting all this time to be let out. 

If I remember correctly it had something to do with bringing the sun back to Seattle. 

Fitting for a Colorado girl.