14 Comments
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Bella Simonetta's avatar

This is such a tender, beautifully controlled story. I loved how the guitar becomes almost a widow itself — not just an object, but the keeper of Mike and Marie’s lost music. The blackbird and the sudden return of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” felt quietly magical without becoming sentimental. And that ending buying new strings is perfect: small, human, hopeful, and earned. Truly lovely writing.

Steve Elliott's avatar

Thanks a lot Bella for your wonderful appreciation of quite a bitter-sweet tale. I'm glad you didn't think it was too icky. Mike is a guitar player. He must find redemption in playing again. Marie would have wanted him to.

Irving A. Lerch's avatar

Well played.

C. Lee McKenzie's avatar

And the music resumes! Nicely told. I loved the guitar’s POV.

Steve Elliott's avatar

Thanks a lot for reading. Yes, an acoustic guitar such as a Martin is a living, breathing thing. She must be caressed.

C. Lee McKenzie's avatar

My son, who plays guitar, would agree, I’m sure.

Steve Elliott's avatar

Glad you have a guitar player on tap)))

elie lichtschein 👽🛹's avatar

this was beautiful. thank you for writing

Steve Elliott's avatar

Thanks a lot for reading and commenting. Much appreciated.

K.C. Knouse's avatar

At first I thought it was a violin, Steve. You gave me a tender journey through the process of grieving, ending with a spark of renewal. So many talented musicians have died from auto, bus, and plane crashes while traveling to their next gig. It's a hard and dangerous life.

Steve Elliott's avatar

Thanks so much for reading. Yes, life on the road has many hazards and pitfalls, but I was determined that Mike would eventually play again. He is a guitar player through and through.

Irving A. Lerch's avatar

Lovely but only half the trip. The road beckons. Nonetheless it stands on its own ... almost.

Steve Elliott's avatar

Thanks for reading Irving! I'll leave them wanting more)))