It was more challenging every day she sat across from him not to tell him what she was up to. After weeks of sharing time and trading their life moments, the mountain of debt she felt she owed only seemed to increase. The man from Oregon had the talents and the life experiences and skills so far above and beyond, the pedestal practically built itself. Admiration hardly felt a suitable offering. This gift would be every thank you, every ounce of grateful she could give. She was thankful he could not see as she fidgeted and paced. They were laughing about his cat and then hers and then music. The man from Oregon made a quip and she laughed uncontrollably. She had to find this guitar. His guitar.
The days moved into a week and then two and not long after, a month. Finally. 36 days and every conceivable place searched and contacted, and she found it. The guitar. His guitar. It was fifty miles away but no matter. Off she raced and she nearly wept when the man at the store held it out to her. She didn't want to touch it but reluctantly took it. It was heavier than she'd anticipated. She stared at it, the cherry red and the veins of the maple. It was beautiful. She tried to remember all that he'd taught her. The frets, tried to recall in her mind where his fingers held the notes. The notes that washed over her like warmth and sunshine. She laughed as she always did thinking on that time he'd explained the note he was playing, a dreamy D.
Using both hands, she handed the guitar back to the man and trying to contain herself, said she'd take it. She paid and asked for it to be wrapped and shipped. 3 days, the man said. It'll get there in 3 days. The longest 3 days she'd experience.
But the days did pass and the notification of delivery came. Now she waited and sent him innocuous messages in anticipation. She was not disappointed when at 412 in the afternoon, "WHAT DID YOU DO? COME HERE NOW!" flashed at the top of her message box. She was ecstatic.
