Guitars on the Porch

When I was small we had some neighbors that was also distant cousins. The man and his wife and one child, a son. Also his dad was staying with them. The father and son knew how to play the guitar and banjo and mandalin. My dad could play the guitar. Sometimes on the weekend we would walk up there and they would sit out on the porch and get out their chosen instruments and start playing. Nothing like the new country and western. What they played was the start of country music. Sometimes an uncle of mine would come join them. He played the guitar also. Cousin Roe, the dad, would sometimes play the mandalin. I would lie there on the porch and listen to the music. Sometimes while I was listening I would look at the stars and sometimes I would see a shooting star. They would play the music till way in the night and the wife, Edith, would cover us up with quilts when we went to sleep. But even in slumber you could still hear it. You could feel it seep into your inner being and stay. It put music in you. Sometimes my mom and dad would carry us home asleep. I cried when they moved away because there would be no more nights of music on the porch. Sometimes my dad would sit out on our porch and play his guitar and I loved it, but it wasn't the same. I missed the other instruments. I wanted to learn to play the guitar but I was too young, I didn't stick with it. Besides I wanted to know music too. I wanted to know all the notes. But there was no one to teach me. So I lost out. I love music and I will always regret not learning it. Those nights of music on the porch were beautiful and a very happy memory.

neon_sapphire