The Good Old Days

Do I have a story for you! Do I have a story for you? Well, yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’. Interested? Grab some coffee and keep reading.

So I was sitting on my front porch playing guitar and singing some old songs, you know, from the 70s, when my phone rang inside the house.

I set my guitar down and went into the house to take the call. I only talked a few minutes but when I came back out my neighbor was playing.

At first, I couldn’t believe she had just picked it up and started playing. I hardly ever let anyone else play it. It’s my pride and joy.

But before I could complain I realized that my guitar had never sounded better. And when she started singing my mouth dropped open.

She was singing and playing the song that I had been playing before my phone call. Only now I could tell it was hers. This was her song.

I sat down by her as she played and sang and she motioned for me to join in so I did. When I did she slipped into harmony. On her song.

Then she would come back in on the melody, her melody, and I slid into harmony. She played that guitar as it had never been played.

And her voice? You know how when you see the PBS programs with past singers and wish they had just kept in the past? This wasn’t that.

This was better than her recording. Her tone was amazing. She spoiled me for listening to her on the Oldies station. Every note. Perfection.

How had I not known it was her? I had lived next door to her for about ten years now. We rarely spoke but she always smiled as I walked by.

Once I had heard her humming a tune that seemed familiar but I just waved at her as I rushed past her to the job that I walked to each day.

Now here we were singing together on my front porch. I didn’t need anybody to see or hear us. I knew who I was singing with, living beside.

A life of anticipation made me always late. Now I was right on time. I just wanted to stay right here.  ‘Cause these are the good old days.