Pickin’ on Me
Image Source: memilesmusic.com
Music surrounded me at all times as a child.
My mom also grew up with music surrounding her.
The same music.
The same memories.
I can still hear the chords of his guitar.
Each plucks at the strings of my memory with angst.
How can one cherish and appreciate the sound
yet abhor and fear so greatly the sound maker?
How did history repeat itself?
Please share liberally :)
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You’re welcome 🙂
Thank you for the pingback 🙂
You are very welcome. Enjoy 🙂
Simple, yet chilling. I felt that. We share very similar tragedies, indeed. Mine was my father’s father. I wrote about him in “To Kenny”. Thank you for sharing this.
Sadly all of my Mom’s brothers…and boyfriends…were my abusers.as a child. I grew up in a band family and music was the thing that saved my soul from withering away from 3 yrs old on … but the irony is the music I love so much the music that saved and continues to save my life …these people who did these horrible things are the very ones who gave me music….and Keep in mind, as an adult, I went into radio and stayed there for 20 years. I also sing and play loose hand drums.
That’s the hardest part about it sometimes, that we carry a part of them inside us, no matter how much we would like to purge them completely. The Music is not the Monster. People are always the Monster. It’s very cool that you own it now. 🙂
*that you own the music, that is – 🙂
LOL I got it 😉
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