A Broken Memory Recovered

When I was a little girl music was huge in my family. We got together on the weekend and played bluegrass and gospel music around the kitchen table. Coffee percolating, cigarette smoke filled the air, music and laughter in abundance. Joy and comfort surround these memories. 

Grandma played autoharp and sang, Grandpa played guitar and sang, my grandma's sister, Auntie Mae also played autoharp and sang, her husband the mandolin. Friends and family would come bringing their instruments or just listen and chat between songs. 

I grew up singing, dancing, and longing to play an instrument.

I got my first guitar when I was little. Like super little, four or five years old. I loved it so much, light wood colour, small enough for me to hold.

When I moved out on my own I took it with me. I never really learnt to play on it. I tried but I grew up before I could use it, it became too small. My long arms and hands squished against the frets. 

When I moved into my house in 2009 my guitar moved with me and sat in the basement. I had a new one that I could play.

When my ex and I split up in 2015, I left my house and all my things behind. I left my little guitar in the basement. 

Never once did I think anything of it. Nothing could get in put safely away down there.

When I finally moved back into my house in 2017 I never thought to check on it.

Fast forward a few years and I and my fiancee, Ben, are living in the house with the COVID-19 pandemic outside. What do you do during a pandemic with a stay-at-home order? You clean and renovate. We did a huge spring clean to remove all the leftover junk from my previous relationship.

I remember reaching onto the shelf above the basement stairs and pulling the guitar off. Pieces we're hanging from it. Strings missing, the neck broke, and the body smashed. My heart sank and I was furious. This was one of the only possessions I had from my childhood. A piece of the memories I had left. My grandpa passed away, my dad passed away. Music is no longer a part of my life in the same way. The guitar held all those memories. Now it lay in pieces and shambles at my feet. How could someone be so reckless and ruin such an important piece of someone's life?

I told my fiancee to throw it in the dumpster. I was done. 

Fast forward again to today, July 20, 2021. A year and a half or more since the dumpster and finding the guitar.

My fiancee comes home and says I have something for you. I was like uh okay?

He tells me remember that guitar you found and it was all broke and you were sad and you wanted me to go throw it out?

I started crying.

He saved it. He turned the neck of the guitar into a necklace display. 

I am in awe. 

One person can ruin your day and pieces of your life. But another can change it all. 

I love you babe.