Reading, Writing, and... Music?

I miss my stringed instruments.  I really need to shut the words off and make more music.  Not just whistling while doing chores. 

A story.  Christmas of... must have been 1969.  Everybody's opening presents, one thing after another, and I had only gotten like two things, maybe new socks and a new sweater.  The flurry of paper and ribbon dies down, and I looked around at the piles of stuff my siblings got, and at my socks... and wondered what I had done wrong.  My mother was looking at the younger kids and smiling, and then she looked at me.  I saw Mom's smile disappear, and she said, "Oh my God, honey, wait just a minute!"  She left the room for a few minutes, and came back.  With a guitar case.  With a classical guitar in it.  My guitar.  Because it was expensive, I didn't get so many Christmas gifts.  But I got the best.  But they they almost forgot to give it to me. 

At first I tried to play the way I thought I ought to play.  That didn't work.  Eventually I learned enough chords to be able to strum and sing along.  Like the writing, my music may not be done well, but there is a satisfaction in the making of it. 

Anyway.  Need to do more of that.  Break out the Christmas music before the Christmas season is all gone. 

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