The Guitar Story…

I haven’t stopped being amazed at how I think about things these days. What winds up feeling important, and what doesn’t feel important and how outside of reality they are. Things like making sure the utility bills are paid on time, (something I used to be really serious about), doesn’t feel important to me, and that one thing that the former spouse took with her that I would have liked to have seems to hang over everything.

I took care of that today.

Years ago, in a different universe than I’m in now, I was in a music store with a friend and discovered the Martin Backpacker guitar. It’s a great little instrument, easy to play, kind of cute, and has a very unique sound. I bought it for my wife. She’d wanted a guitar, this one seemed to be a nice one, my friend, who is a professional musician, (which is why we were in the music store) recommended it, and thought she’d like it.

For whatever reason, the guitar migrated into it’s bag, and lived there, rarely seeing the light of day, for years. When my boss started taking guitar lessons, I offered to loan it to him for a couple of days, until his guitar came in, and I didn’t ask if it was ok. I had assumed, (and you know what that gets you) that since it was never played, and my boss is a fairly responsible person, it wouldn’t be a problem to let him play it for a few days. It turned out that it was, and I called him, and he drove the guitar back to our house and I gave him my guitar for the few days, which honestly, I should have done in the first place. The martin sat in it’s bag for a long time after that, much like it had before it was loaned out.

I was disappointed, both in the fact that she didn’t play the guitar, and that I had bought something that she didn’t much like, and I kept my eyes out for another guitar, with the caveat that I wouldn’t buy anything without showing it to her, and seeing if she wanted it. I never found anything that really called out to me, so it sat in it’s bag.

When she announced that she was moving out, and was packing her things, I mentioned that if she wasn’t interested in the guitar, or wanted to trade something for it, I’d be happy to have it, and would certainly trade something of value for it. I realize how that sounds, and how insane it is to tell someone that’s leaving you, hey, can I have that? I like it. As expected she declined any trades or cash for the guitar, saying that she’d like to start playing it now.

Kind of generates a whole bunch of totally unnecessary, but mostly unavoidable emotions, like, Damn, why now? and Cool, at least you’ll start playing it, that’s what I bought it for, and Damn, I really wanted that guitar. Sigh… one of these days I’ll get my priorities straight.

So today, a Martin Backpacker came up on craigslist. It wasn’t very expensive, and I wrote to the cryptic craigslist address, hoping that it was her selling the guitar. And it wasn’t, and I bought it, and I am now the proud, (way too proud) owner of a backpacker guitar, in mint condition.

It sort of closes a door for me. It feels like the last thing she had that I wanted. One day I’ll realize how happy that should be making me. For now, it’s cool to have the guitar.


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