The New Guitarist

"Here, Raheem, take my guitar. You can be great." I've only known of Jimi Hendrix, and I was no Jimi Hendrix. I took the guitar that was given to me. I had no knowledge of this six string instrument. Mysterious, yet the brown wood was inviting. I learned my first chord, E minor. I pressed my fingertips on to the steel strings. "OK, I got this E minor down, now on to other chords." I learned G#, G minor, B flat, bar chords, scales, finger picking. My fingertips became calloused and I fell in love with the instrument that was given to me. I play it when I am mad, sad, distraught, ambiguous, furious, happy, and jubilant. Nothing expresses emotion, like playing a guitar. Is it weird to call an inanimate object a friend? Because that's what my guitar is to me. Ready when I need it. At my side when I need it to be. It listens to my heart when I hold it close to me. Calloused finger tips never felt so good when it's from an instrument that you love.

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