El Guitarrista…

I don’t know why he started playing, but I like to think he did it for us. To fill our home with music, something I had always dreamed of. The fact that he taught himself, was impressive in its own right. But, the fact that he impresses me with the sweetest melodies, well that’s a miracle for me.
I want to believe he plays to show me he loves me, but then again I want to believe many things that are not necessarily true to anyone but me. The beautiful chords he strums reminds me that my heart is still alive, though beaten and battered. The crafted notes remind me of the life we built for each other, and that the years will keep us together forever. I belong to him. He is the one that chose me, and chooses me everyday. The only one who ever did that for me. He is the one that has always stood by my side, and let me be whoever and whatever I needed to be in life. The songs tell our story, and for that I am grateful that he is my partner in this journey.
When he plays, he reminds me why I married him. I had forgotten how beautiful his eyes are, when he is happy. I am glad the songs of that wooden instrument -that melodic tool- made me look at him with fresh eyes. Maybe he doesn’t know it, but his guitar has brought me back home, and it is his music that heals my heart. He gives me something beautiful, everyday.


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