One thing I miss after moving out of our family home is my guitar. Not that I'm so good at playing it, but I love making music with my guitar. On nights when I can't sleep, I go down to the bedroom at the first floor of our house and strum the night away. I play my favorite songs until my eyes hurt from drowsiness.
When I learned to play guitar, I also got encouraged to write my own songs. I have successfully completed one song (which I will share in a future blog post), after writing three unfinished songs. They remain unfinished because I do not know yet how to end the stories in those songs. Maybe someday, I'll get to finish them. Or maybe I won't.
Now that I already stay in a boarding house near my office, I'm no longer able to play my guitar at night. I can't bring my guitar to the boarding house because I share a room with three other girls. I share the house with 20 other housemates. I have no space where I can keep it. And playing guitar, especially at night, is not a good idea when 20 other housemates are sleeping and resting after a long day at work.
The callouses on my fingers are now gone, and I'm sure, my fingers will hurt again when I play the guitar. However, I don't see it happening soon. I'm busy, and I haven't stayed long enough at home to allot ample time for leisure.
I hope my guitar still remembers me when I finally get the chance to pick it up again. I hope it shows my fingers some mercy as I try to regain my callouses and get used to playing again. I hope it feels my familiar touch. And I hope it becomes one with me as I try to write more songs and make more music.