Picking My Memories

Orianthi guitar pick card
Orianthi guitar picks in a card.

The last time I held any of these between my fingers was many years ago. I used to have a whole collection of them, in all colours, sizes and thickness. Wuan showed me the card and asked me what it was. It came with the CDs that she bought. One look and I knew what they unmistakably were; four Orianthi guitar picks that could be broken off from the card.

Not knowing who Orianthis is, I searched for her in YouTube and was thoroughly impressed with her guitar skills. Watching her play made me wish I could do the same again. When I was happy, I played the guitar. When I was sad, I played the guitar, too. Now, whenever I rolled pass a musical instrument shop, I could only look at the polished guitars on display and reminisce about the times when I held one in my hands, coaxed melodies out of the strings and sang the songs of my life.

2 thoughts on “Picking My Memories”

  1. I can imagine how sad you feel when you go past those stores. I played the flute, in fact, still have it in the closet. Like you, I played it when I was happy and when I was sad and everything in between. A couple of months ago I was on a Greyhound bus going to Nashville for physical therapy. As I sat there looking out the window, I started to here flute music. It definitely didn’t sound like a radio, and it wasn’t. The melody was coming from a college student sitting 4 rows back from me.

    1. I want to add that our musical instruments are the simplest way for us to express ourselves short of writing a blog entry like this. Music is indeed food for the soul.

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