The ringing of a flashback

After explaining the activity in the last post, here I leave, the story that represent flashbacks for me: 

Once, I was damning the world because I lost the right hand. It was when I was just 17 years old, just a boy that was starting to live the world that is disallowed for kids, because they wouldn’t handle so much in just one bite, maybe it is too much even if you are 20 or 30, but at least you are able to do it. We know how much dangers are there outside, not waiting for the perfect victim, or the perfect moment, that would only be important if you wanted to be married.

 But no, that’s not the street like, because it doesn’t wait, it just carries on even if you fell or went out, but it’s just impossible to leave, once you are inside it. I know I was kind of young and my father aware me one thousand times, but I would rather not to listen, but my riffs. I use to go around with something I added to my body, something I would rather not to live without, dreaming not to be big, but to make her important. It wasn’t another girl, she was just different, always quiet waiting for me to arrive, and only speaking to me, that guitar was just awesome. Her curves would take you into the deepest ride you would never get not even owning a rollercoaster, she yelled as fantastic and terrific as a lovely woman does, when you are doing right. Her strings were just as the song says, the highway to the warmest and best place to play, for me and her, the hell. I must accept it was my fault to lose her, and if she’s not here anymore there is nothing else to say but, that I took her away. Of course it wasn’t because I wanted, because I even lost my hand in the same moment. If I had the choice to recover any of them, perhaps it would be my hand, so I would honor her, playing until death, but that was kind of the sacrifice like asked, because of my stupidity. Everything started, one night, I was supposed to stay home, as my father grounded me. I forgot to say, I was kind of an outlaw, and I don’t know if you share this with me, but school was just boring. Everything I wanted was to go around making people realize how a guitar can change either your day or your life, and I used to do my prophet job, in a rookie band, that sounded good enough to make me an addict of music. That night, was supposed to happen our best concert, with lots of people waiting outside wanting to listen to us, and a good set of songs that were going to rock them. Only 10 people was at the place, and 5 worked there. I felt disappointed, perhaps I had to big dreams about what it was going to be like, and for it to be worse I escaped home, so I supposed I was going to be grounded the double, paying for a crime I was supposed to enjoy. As we played for those 5 people, I better packed my guitar and rode my bicycle home, I was kind of blind by anxiety. I was close to the 33th avenue and it was really late, maybe 2 or 3 a.m. I was wearing earphones, listening to those songs that always made me feel happy, but they were not working that night. I didn’t looked at both sides of the street, and a drunk driver, ran over me. He escaped of course, and let me there, kind of unconscious, but looking around for my guitar.

All I could see was that amount of broken wood. A big part of the neck of the guitar was crossing my right hand, making me lose the sense, I was about to faint, but in the horizon I could see some lights, another car I guessed. I expected it to see me, and when I totally fainted, I just can’t remember what happened after all of this. I spent two months on the hospital, recovering myself thinking on other things. Doctors tried to save my hand in every single way, and what I will never forgot what they said: -“I’m sorry, but it’s better for you to let it go”- Immediately I understood what he meant, as he added: -“You’re going to be alright”-. As I was in the hospital, I just listened to my thoughts, nor my music or other people, just my mind. I just laid in the bed looking everything and thinking of everything. No more music for me, I thought after I was out the surgery. I took the imminent choice to leave music forever because it just got me problems. After I went out the hospital, it passed 3 years, which I consider really incredible, 3 years of not listening a guitar. Sometimes I even forgot about I played, and those great moments I had with it, forgetting even my feelings about it, not being able to express about guitar in such a poetic way. I really had taken the choice to be far from music. I had to learn a lot about just using one hand, they even gave me a book to read, but believe it is hard to do with just one hand, I had to change a lot of things I used do, not only playing but quotidian things I never knew could be so hard with just one hand, the world is designed for people with two, I thought. I was kind of making it, trying to change my life, because even school started to seem interesting. Perhaps that made me stronger and less absent from reality, helping me face another things, but just one day, after three years of successful avoid of the guitar, I decided to go for a walk, which I not used to do a lot. One block, six blocks, half an hour walking and I found it kind of distressful, as I was getting nearby a little village close to my town, a single sound, made me stop. I know that, I said. It ringed from the outside of my ear to the deepest room of my soul, and made me freeze, and fall into an absence moment. I remembered those old days, when I used to be less serious, and life was happy to me. When just a sound meant everything for me, and I could make as much as I wanted, I was happy in the many single ways it sounded. It kept ringing, and everything it did was growing that big smile on my face. I didn’t wanted to move, a lot of things inside myself started to explode. It sounded once again, and stronger, like if my own heart was releasing all of it strength in just one sound. I decided to follow it, and found a young man with an old brown acoustic guitar, he was surprised with my presence but I just could ask him to keep playing, that was pure pleasure and immediately I understood why I decided to let it go, perhaps I was too sure about all the pleasure it meant, and it would be harmful to have this machine of love lying in my lap not being able to make that lovely sound. In that moment I forgot about all of my thoughts, my sadness and stopped feeling that kind of emptiness nothing could fill, and just let the guitar ring not in my ears, but in my soul. I knew even I couldn’t play it, I could at least, appreciate it and let it live inside me. Forever.

Thank you!