A few weeks back, I’ve reunited with an old love. A good friend reintroduced us again and I’ve been hooked since then. My nights have somehow found a new rhythm, and my fingers positioned themselves in familiar places. I’ve missed running my hand in it’s curve and hearing the melody after I’ve strummed the strings.
My old love was the guitar. Though it wasn’t the first instrument I’ve learned how to play, I’ve always, and will always, love it. My high school best friend was my first teacher. Even before we were taught guitar basics back in UP High, she influenced me with her addiction to Music.
My first guitar was a maroon acoustic piece that my papa bought for me. For someone who doesn’t know a thing about instruments, he sure was meticulous in seeing to it that it was scratch free, of good material, and he knows what his daughter would like.
Money was scarce then and buying a guitar isn’t really a priority. But my papa somehow made it happend. I was in cloud 9 when I got home from school and found a red guitar bag in my bed (yes, even before red already ruled my world). i told him that it would have been more than enough for me if he’d gotten the cheap ones they sell in Carbon. And I saw how happy he was at seeing me happy with what he gave me, and I know he would rob the heaven with it’s stars and sell them all to the highest bidder if it would mean happiness to those he loves.
I had wished then that we have Music subject everyday. I didn’t mind the callouses in my fingertips from practicing. My guitar was far more cheaper compared to that of my classmates, but I was so proud of it and of the person who gave it to me.
While other girls grow their nails and make them canvasses filled with different colors, I’ve kept mine clean and short so they won’t wreck havoc with the strings. I’ve kept that guitar for almost nine years, and we’ve played so many music together. Even made some ourselves. Until one day, it fell on the floor and fractured it’s neck. We tried to remedy the damage but playing it was never the same. It’s the same one who’ve been with me for so many years, but it sounded different. And so it went inside it’s red bag and stayed, almost, forgotten for awhile.
Later, I’ve met someone who re-awaken my fascination with this 6-stringed instrument. I gave him his very own after a few months of going out together. His face lit up like a child who got his very wish when he got the surprise. But he played a different tune afterwards. The pain he bought was far deeper and more painful than the callouses my old guitar has given me. If only dealing with life is like learning an instrument. Life requires sometimes a multitude of practice for one to master just one facet.
After sometime I met J. We became friends. He tried to understand my tangled strings. I was fractured then, like my forgotten guitar. I couldn’t play without my hand shaking, i thought the music died in plain sight. When I needed to free my mind, he’ll take me to the mountains and i’ll drown myself to the view and let the wind take my fears away.
One time, he bought me to Opon, famous for their high quality guitars. I bought a new guitar that day. I couldn’t wait to go home to try it out. I’ve felt rusty cause I haven’t played one in awhile. He gave me two thick songbooks to practice on. He doesn’t know how, so he would just watch me try out one song after another. 
My fingers felt a little awkward and a little painful after not playing for awhile. But I didn’t mind the pain, I want to play again. And as for J and I, we gave it a try and the music still kept playing for us.
I didn’t have my guitar with me when I left for Singapore. But somehow the instrument never left me. I stayed with a good friend for my first month here, and he had a guitar with him. It was such a happy time back then. There were 8 of us staying in a 3 bedroom flat. And sometimes we would cap the night playing music and singing our hearts out.
And now I’m reunited with that old love of mine. A good friend took me to old shops at Bugis where you can find good finds. It’s a big contrast to the big malls which flood this small city state, but it was a haven for old school stuff, music instruments from around the world, at a really affordable price.
The shop owner was an old man with a happy smile who plays the guitar like a well-known lover. I was eyeing one of the displays, and I told him I’m a beginner and I’m looking for something to practice on. He went outside and asked his assistant to help him with one of the boxes. And inside I found what I wanted. And it was even cheaper than the one on the display! 
While I was about to pay to the cashier I included one guitar pick on my purchase. The shop owner asked me if I’ll only be buying one , and I said yes. And he said that he’ll just give it to me then. Bless him.
I’m not really good at playing the guitar. For years I’ve known how to play, but I can’t say I’ve mastered the art. But I love playing, learning more about , and making music with it. I’ve made a goal a few years back to learn at least one instrument each year. Perhaps that is the reason why I never mastered one, because after awhile I forgot already the discipline of playing, even forget about the basics. I’ve tried bass, a bit of drums, a little keyboard, and even the flute… but after awhile I forgot already.
Except for the guitar, afer I first learned how to play it I didn’t forget. And after a long time of not strumming, it still feels familiar when I do the finger positions.
Just like the feel of another person’s hand in your own. You know where your hand touches his. And even if there are times that you don’t feel that warmth beside you, your hand would know how it feels even without seeing.
