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My father’s trumpet
My father’s trumpetIn a black box under my parent´s bed is hidden a shiny Golden trumpet, since I have memory I remember that black box in the same place, there it stays almost all days of the week, every day I see it, is in the same place as always, under my parents bed.
After a hard week of work he goes to his room to play it. He practices almost every weekend, he can stay there for many hours, just playing songs and practicing. He enjoys so much the music, but his trumpet is his most valuable thing, he takes care of it as if it was a baby, he cleans it every time he uses it, and then the trumped goes to the same place, under my parent’s bed. It has to pass one week just for playing the trumpet again. When my father was younger he was a good trumpeter, it was more than a hobby, he tried in many fields and succeeded in some occasions but not at the level he wanted to, so he decided to not continue with that. But now he is really happy with his trumpet, in every chance he has to play he does, every occasion that is appropriate he uses it to play the trumpet. Even if it’s sunny, rainy, cloudy, it doesn’t matter he plays it when he can. A lot of years have passed since that trumped arrived at my house, it is older than the first daughter than came to the family, many histories that it could tell, but it doesn’t matter how old it is, it has the same sound as when it was new. A lot of travels and histories it has passed thru, now it is in the same place as when I was born, under my parent’s bed. It can be there for many more years and my father will have it even if it doesn’t work anymore. My father loves that trumpet and even if he is not professional but playing it makes him very happy.
