PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I think of my grandpa one of the first things that comes to my mind are his guitars, he would always have them in the studio of the house and he would always play different songs, sometimes for himself, some others for all his grandchildren. I remember he telling me how he would go out with his friends to play when he was younger, then he would show me the recordings they made, he once even tried to teach me to play the guitar but I kind of failed that one. On the weekends when all the grandchildren went to his house, we ran to the studio where the guitars were standing because we wanted to play them, and he would always play a song to us, and in those moments we where more than happy. We would always want to play with his guitars so one day when we went to his house, he received us with a gift, our own guitars, they were so tiny you could think it was an ukulele but they weren’t, they were guitars, so finally we could play like we were our grandpa, but actually he was way better than us, for us it was more like a game, and we really liked it. The guitars were always in there; it didn’t matter if it was pouring outside the house, or if it was the hottest day of the year, if it was a good day or a bad day, you could know for sure you will find his guitars standing in the studio, like if they were waiting for my grandpa to play them. Some days he would spend a lot of time just cleaning them and changing all the strings of his guitars, and in that moment you could see the serenity on his face, and you could know for sure it was the thing he most liked. And even though in his last years he didn’t played much, he would always listen to his recordings, remembering the friends that played with him, the little parties they made just to play, and every time he listened you could see a big smile appearing on his face. He would always tell us stories about that, and we enjoyed them as much as he did. We still remember all his stories, and when we go to visit our grandma we see all of his guitars standing on the studio, and remember all the stories he told us and the ones we lived with him.