Playing guitar was not easy for Imelda. What was heard in her head did not seem to make it to the ear when she played. Everyone told her that she was very talented and played with passion but to her, it always fell short. Ten years old she was when the lessons started. Practicing till her fingers bled, her parents almost took the guitar away. Finally, the calluses formed and the bleeding stopped. Her heart, though, kept bleeding with the need to perfect her music. Talking to the guitar. Coaxing the strings to give her the sounds she knew were there. Sounds that just had to be pulled out by her fingers.
Playing tonight in a coffee house on the Southside, she was somewhat blase but she turned her mind to her muse and set her fingers to the steel. Connecting as never before, the guitar was on fire. The flames of perfection in the music engulfed her completely. All the years of practice and striving culminated in that one performance. The audience rose from their seats in spontaneous combustion applause. To that, she was oblivious for she had found her groove at last.
© Carol Campbell
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