Soulful Strings
Soulful Strings
As I plop down on the over-stuffed rose-tinted antique love seat, childhood memories dance through my imagination, creating a comforting yet unbreakable bubble, until reality?s sharpness stabs the unfamiliar world into several suds of disillusion. Intensely fixated on a pleasantly plump picture of an eight-year old girl, with stringy hair the color of frozen lemonade, and big cow-brown eyes, I twist my questioning face into a wrinkled raisin trying to recall child-like senses. I am this girl. I vivdly remember wearing a familiar itchy hand-me down bright red Christmas sweater with a sewn on grass green tree that clung to the rusted metal bells and cube shaped gifts by worn out threads. Concentrating fully on the one-finger notes of ?Rudolph?, I look as though I am pondering the meaning of life.. Saddened for the loss of my precious child-like innocence, I divertingly lower my plain brown eyes with the memorable piano picture back into the book of memories- the book of feelings. Playing the piano had always been a personal expression as well as a way to reward myself with a unique talent that I sometimes shared with others. Surprisingly, I found not only do I
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