 | But the day that I die will be the day I shut my mouth and put down my guitar |
I’m sorry, Dad.
There’s going to be a lot of things I should apologize to my dad for. this will be the first one, that I’ve at least fully realized anyway. Growing up, he had guitars that would just sit in cases and he’d never play them. Once I got out on my own, I bought guitars and hung them on my walls and I played them all. I recorded music. I thought music was such a part of me that I could never walk away from it. I will always want to play my guitar. I couldn’t believe my dad didn’t play guitar regularly. He wasn’t your typical “oh, yeah, I can play campfire songs” guitarist. He knew music theory. He just never did anything with it, and that is where I judged him.
Because right now, I haven’t touched my guitars at all, because I’d rather put my hands around my daughter than some dead piece of wood. I’m not sure that’s why my dad didn’t play, I’m just saying that in my arrogance, I thought I was different. I thought I would be different. Quite frankly, I’m glad I’m not different, because I’d miss this little girl grow up.
My 30×30 list has some music related things on it that will not be done. I’m alright with that, because my heart strings are being played by someone else right now. Maybe she’ll want to play, or better yet, maybe she’ll be left handed and learn to play my guitars for me. That’d be swell.
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