Two collared doves outside the window. Deer tracks in fresh snow.
A world awaits a new dawn. A chicken clucks. A new egg appears.
Books on a shelf. Pages to read. The sun is shining.
Another installment of ‘The Awakening . . . ‘
“I’m really rusty, haven’t played this thing for a while,” I said.
“You’ll do fine. Just have fun. This one’s in G with an A minor thrown in. Listen and watch, you’ll pick it up.” And she began with laying out the chord progression and rhythm for me. She moved into an intro and began to sing in her sweet voice. If I could not ever love her for anything else, I could love her simply for her voice. I started in following her chording and rhythm clumsily at first, but got better as the song went on. With her finger picking and me strumming, I thought it started to sound pretty good. The chord progression was easy enough. I watched her left hand working the frets. Her finger picking style, pulled out a basic melody interspersed with arpeggios, all tastefully done.
She finished and she looked at me and smiled, “See, you did great. I want a glass of wine, how about you?”
“Me too. I’ll get some.”
We played for hours beside the crackling fire until my un-calloused fingers were getting sore. It was an amazing evening, playing music with her by a crackling fire, sipping wine, someplace in Wyoming, far removed from my family and all those problems. But one thing I was beginning to realize, how comfortable I felt with Hanna.
We got ready for bed. I was about to crawl into my sleeping bag on the couch when Hanna came over and hugged me and said softly into my ear, “That was really nice. You play much better than you think.” She looked up into my eyes and kissed me on the cheek. “G’ night, Russell, see ya in the morning.”
A spider in, winter out. Please do not bother. A web in a flower.