Saturday, 10 September 2011

Troubadour

Mother asked me to sort out the mess of clothes in the smaller cottage today. I climbed into the loft and while throwing all the clothes down, I found my brother's guitar under the clutter. And so I leaned back against a mattress and tuned the guitar, my fingers straining to reach round the neck. I stared at the ceiling, strumming and thinking about how wet the mosses were, about how full of promise the days are, about how I came to be this deep into the woods and this far on top of the world, about nothing at all, just because it was one of those quiet, do-nothing days.

3 comments:

C. Lowe said...

Ah, I miss you and wish I could have a do nothing day with you!

Nard said...

I started chuckling because I thought you threw the guitar down along with the clothes ehehe. Life out of school for now is good, no?

S.L. Gabriel said...

Melissa: I miss you too!
Nard: Nope. No guitar throwing. I'm pretty sure my brother would be upset if I chucked his guitar from the loft.