THE STORY OF MY GUITAR

This is me and my guitar. A guitar with a singular history.

It is a Spanish guitar with more than 50 years of age, has played many songs by the hand of my father. He used it to make my mother (and many other women) fall in love. He was a good musician. A good singer.

The guitar is valuable not only for the brand, and it is a relic not only because of its age. Its greatest value is the sentimental type, it is the only thing that I have my father, who died when I was 10 months old. It is a very appreciated memory for my brothers and me.

His times of glory were undoubtedly in the hands of my father. When he dies, she goes into a mourning in which she has been immersed for almost 32 years. When my father died all were small, the mayor of my brothers was barely 12 years old, the guitar was hanging near an incandescent light bulb that burned the ropes and also damaged the mast. Over the years my mother decided to send her to repair with a man, it was fine, but since no one touched her, she was abandoned. When I left home I still had not learned about music, that's why she stayed there.

I was always aware of her, when the house where we all grew up was abandoned I went to look for her and took her to where I lived at that moment, I already knew music but the guitar was damaged and hit, I was there and when I moved I did not take it for lack of space.

31 years of abandonment and loneliness. Two days ago I went to look for it where I had left it. I finally have room to have it with me. But it is damaged. I would like to be able to repair it but I do not have money, however, if I rapaire it, I will compose a song to record and share it with you. Meanwhile, this is a relic, a precious memory.